diva-portal.orgdiva-portal.org/smash/get/diva2:844165/fulltext01.pdf · bankoff & swart breeds...

www.niaspress.dk

Ban

ko

ff & Sw

art B

RE

ED

S OF

EM

PIR

E

Ships of empire carried not just merchandise, soldiers and administrators but also equine genes from as far afield as Europe, Arabia, the Americas, China and Japan. In the process, they introduced horses into parts of the world not native to that animal in historical times. As a result, horses in Thailand, the Philippine Horses, the Cape Horse in South Africa and the Basotho Pony in the mountain kingdom of Lesotho share a genetic lineage with the horse found in the Indonesian archipelago. This book explores the ‘invention’ of specific breeds of horse in the context of imperial design and colonial trade routes. Here, it focuses on the introduction, invention and use of the horse in Thailand, the Philippines and southern Africa as well as examining its roots and evolution within Indonesia. In addition, it examines the colonial trade in horses within the Indian Ocean and discusses the historiographical and methodological problems associated with writing a more species- or horse-centric history. This is a fascinating study that will appeal not only to scholars but also to the broad horse-reading public interested in all things equine.

BREEDS OF EMPIREThe ‘Invention’ of the Horse in Southeast Asia

and Southern Africa 1500–1950

greg bankoff and sandra swart with Peter Boomgaard, William Clarence-Smith, Bernice de Jong Boers

and Dhiravat na Pombejra

Bankoff_pbk-cover.indd 1 21/6/07 12:42:42

Breeds of Empire

Bankoff book.indb iBankoff book.indb i 22/6/07 12:48:5022/6/07 12:48:50

NORDIC INSTITUTE OF ASIAN STUDIES

NIAS Studies in Asian Topics

16 Leadership on Java Hans Antlöv and Sven Cederroth (eds)

17 Vietnam in a Changing World Irene Nørlund, Carolyn Gates and Vu Cao Dam (eds)

18 Asian Perceptions of Nature Ole Bruun and Arne Kalland (eds)

19 Imperial Policy and Southeast Asian Nationalism Hans Antlöv and Stein Tønnesson (eds)

20 The Village Concept in the Transformation of Rural Southeast Asia Mason C Hoadley and Christer Gunnarsson (eds)

21 Identity in Asian Literature Lisbeth Littrup (ed.)

22 Mongolia in Transition Ole Bruun and Ole Odgaard (eds)

23 Asian Forms of the Nation Stein Tønnesson and Hans Antlöv (eds)

24 The Eternal Storyteller Vibeke Børdahl (ed.)

25 Japanese Infl uences and Presences in Asia Marie Söderberg and Ian Reader (eds)

26 Muslim Diversity Leif Manger (ed.)

27 Women and Households in Indonesia Juliette Koning, Marleen Nolten, Janet Rodenburg and Ratna Saptari (eds)

28 The House in Southeast Asia Stephen Sparkes and Signe Howell (eds)

29 Rethinking Development in East Asia Pietro P. Masina (ed.)

30 Coming of Age in South and Southeast Asia Lenore Manderson and Pranee Liamputtong (eds)

31 Imperial Japan and National Identities in Asia, 1895–1945 Li Narangoa and Robert Cribb (eds)

32 Contesting Visions of the Lao Past Christopher Goscha and Søren Ivarsson (eds)

33 Reaching for the Dream Melanie Beresford and Tran Ngoc Angie (eds)

34 Mongols from Country to City Ole Bruun and Li Naragoa (eds)

35 Four Masters of Chinese Storytelling Vibeke Børdahl, Fei Li and Huang Ying (eds)

36 The Power of Ideas Claudia Derichs and Thomas Heberer (eds)

37 Beyond the Green Myth Peter Sercombe and Bernard Sellato (eds)

38 Kinship and Food in South-East Asia Monica Janowski and Fiona Kerlogue (eds)

39 Exploring Ethnic Diversity in Burma Mikael Gravers (ed.)

40 Politics, Culture and Self: East Asian and North European Attitudes Geir Helgesen and Søren Risbjerg Thomsen (eds)

41 Beyond Chinatown Mette Thunø (ed.)

42 Breeds of Empire: The ‘Invention’ of the Horse in Southeast Asia and Southern Africa 1500–1950 Greg Bankoff and Sandra Swart

Bankoff book.indb iiBankoff book.indb ii 22/6/07 12:48:5222/6/07 12:48:52

Breeds of EmpireThe ‘Invention’ of the Horse in

Southeast Asia and Southern Africa 1500–1950

Greg Bankoff and Sandra Swartwith Peter Boomgaard, William Clarence-Smith,

Bernice de Jong Boers and Dhiravat na Pombejra

Bankoff book.indb iiiBankoff book.indb iii 22/6/07 12:48:5222/6/07 12:48:52

Breeds of Empire: The ‘Invention’ of the Horse in Southeast Asia and

Southern Africa 1500–1950

By Greg Bankoff and Sandra Swart, with Peter Boomgaard, William Clarence-Smith, Bernice de Jong Boers and Dhiravat na Pombejra

NIAS – Nordic Institute of Asian StudiesStudies in Asian Topics, no. 42

First published in 2007 by NIAS PressNordic Institute of Asian Studies (NIAS)

Leifsgade 33, 2300 Copenhagen S, DenmarkE-mail: [email protected]

Online: http://www.niaspress.dk/

© Greg Bankoff and Sandra Swart 2007

While copyright in the volume as a whole is vested in the principal authors, copyright in the individual chapters belongs to their authors. No chapter may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express permission of the pub-lisher.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Bankoff, Greg

Breeds of empire : the ‘invention’ of the horse in Southeast Asia and

Southern Africa, 1500-1950. - (NIAS studies in Asian topics ; 42)

1. Horses - Thailand - History 2. Horses - Philippines - History 3.

Horses - Africa, Southern - History 4. Horses - Indonesia - History 5.

Horses - Breeding - History 6. Southeast Asia - Economic conditions

7. Southeast Asia - Foreign economic relations 8. Africa, Southern -

Economic conditions 9. Africa, Southern - Foreign economic relations

I. Title II. Swart, Sandra

636.1’00959

ISBN: 978-87-7694-014-0 (hardback)ISBN: 978-87-7694-021-8 (paperback)ISSN: 0142-6028

Typesetting by Donald B. Wagner

Produced by SRM Production Services Sdn Bhd and printed in Malaysia

Bankoff book.indb ivBankoff book.indb iv 22/6/07 12:48:5222/6/07 12:48:52

v

Contributors vii

1 Breeds of Empire and the ‘Invention’ of the Horse 1Greg Bankoff and Sandra Swart

Part One 2 Southeast Asia and Southern Africa in the Maritime Horse Trade of

the Indian Ocean, c. 1800–1914 21William Gervase Clarence-Smith

3 Horse Breeding, Long-distance Horse Trading and Royal Courts in Indonesian History, 1500–1900 33

Peter Boomgaard

4 The ‘Arab’ of the Indonesian Archipelago: Famed Horse Breeds of Sumbawa 51

Bernice de Jong Boers

5 Javanese Horses for the Court of Ayutthaya 65Dhiravat na Pombejra

Part Two 6 Colonising New Lands: Horses in the Philippines 85

Greg Bankoff

7 Adapting to a New Environment: The Philippine Horse 105Greg Bankoff

8 Riding High – Horses, Power and Settler Society in Southern Africa, c. 1654–1840 123

Sandra Swart

9 The ‘Ox That Deceives’: The Meanings of the ‘Basotho Pony’ in Southern Africa 141

Sandra Swart

Epilogue 10 ‘Together yet Apart’: Towards a Horse-story 153

Greg Bankoff and Sandra Swart

Notes 155 Bibliography 219 Index 249

Contents

Bankoff book.indb vBankoff book.indb v 22/6/07 12:48:5322/6/07 12:48:53

vi Breeds of Empire

Maps

3.1 Horse Breeding and Trade in Indonesian History. 494.1 The Island of Sumbawa 524.2 The Indonesian Archipelago 535.1 Ayutthaya and Java 665.2 Siam 676.1 The Philippines 889.1 Southern Africa 142

Figures

6.1 Variations in Equine Population on Luzon, 1886–1918 967.1 Comparison of Equine Height to Numbers, Philippines, 1935 1068.1 Growth of the Horse Population in the Cape, 1652–1702 1308.2 A View of Lord Charles Somerset 1389.1 Photograph from the Remount Commission, Basotho Pony, c. 1902 146

Tables

2.1 Horse Exports from Southern Africa to all Destinations, 1827–1918 25

2.2 Mauritian Imports of Equids 1833–1913 272.3 Horse Exports from the Lesser Sunda Islands, 1880–1918 303.1 Number of Horses per 1,000 People, Java, 1820–1900 446.1 Number of Conveyances Registered in Various Provinces,

Philippines, 1889 876.2 Horses Employed by Activity, Philippines, 1889 906.3 Equine Population Changes, Philippines, 1886–1903 936.4 Causes of Mortality Among Equine Populations by Region,

Philippines, 1918 996.5 Domesticated Equine Population Densities per Square Kilometre,

Philippines, 1886 101

Front Cover

Lace. Photographer Graham Walker.Three horse riders in ceremonial clothing on the occasion of the wedding between the Sultan of Sumbawa and the daughter of the Sultan of Bima. Photographer/Copyright Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian and Caribbean Studies (KITLV), Leiden, no. 29.508. Date: 1931.

Back Cover

Miss Anna Ide, mounted, Baguio, Benguet. Photographer/Copyright Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan, Dean C. Worcester Photographic Collection, 1890-1913, no. 58M064. Date: 1904.

Bankoff book.indb viBankoff book.indb vi 22/6/07 12:48:5322/6/07 12:48:53

vii

Greg Bankoff is a social and environmental historian of Southeast Asia and

the Pacific. In particular, he writes on environmental–society interactions

with respect to natural hazards, resources, human–animal relations, and

issues of social equity and labour. He is professor of modern history in

the Department of History, University of Hull. Among his publications are

Crime, Society and the State in the Nineteenth Century Philippines (Manila:

Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1996) and Cultures of Disaster: Society

and Natural Hazard in the Philippines (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003). He

is also co-editor of Mapping Vulnerability: Disasters, Development and People

(with Georg Frerks and Dorothea Hilhorst, London: Earthscan, 2004).

Peter Boomgaard was trained as an economic and social historian and

obtained his PhD from the Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam, in 1987. He is

Senior Researcher at the Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian

and Caribbean Studies (KITLV), Leiden, and Professor of Environmental

His tory of Southeast Asia at the University of Amsterdam. Among his publi-

cations are Children of the Colonial State: Population Growth and Economic

Develop ment in Java, 1795–1880 (Amsterdam: Free University Press, 1989),

Frontiers of Fear: Tigers and People in the Malay World, 1600–1950 (New

Haven/London : Yale University Press, 2001), and Southeast Asia: An En viron-

mental History (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2007).

William G. Clarence-Smith is Professor of the Economic History of Asia and

Africa at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London.

He has worked extensively on commodities and traders. In his first book,

Slaves, Peasants and Capitalists in Southern Angola, 1840–1926 (Cambridge

University Press, 1979) he touched briefly on the horse trade across the

Kalahari. He is currently researching the history of equids and elephants in

Southeast Asia and its borderlands, c1760–c1960. His most recent book is

Islam and the Abolition of Slavery, London: Hurst, 2006.

Dhiravat na Pombejra is the author of several articles on Thai history,

including “Ayutthaya at the end of the seventeenth century: was there a

shift to isolation?” in Anthony Reid (ed.), Southeast Asia in the Early Modern

Contributors

Bankoff book.indb viiBankoff book.indb vii 22/6/07 12:48:5322/6/07 12:48:53

viii Breeds of Empire

Era: Trade, Power, and Belief (Ithaca: Cornell University, 1993) and “VOC

employees and their relationships with Mon and Siamese women: a case

study of Osoet Pegua” in Barbara Watson Andaya (ed.), Other Pasts: Women,

Gender and History in Early Modern Southeast Asia (Honolulu: Center for

Southeast Asian Studies, University of Hawai‘i at Manoa, 2000). He is co-

editor , with Remco Raben, of In the King’s Trail (Bangkok: Royal Netherlands

Embassy, 1997). Formerly a Lecturer in History at Chulalongkorn University,

Bangkok, he continues to teach and to do research, mainly on the history of

seventeenth and eighteenth century Siam.

Bernice de Jong Boers was trained as an anthropologist at Utrecht University

and was affiliated as a PhD student at the Royal Netherlands Institute of

Southeast Asian and Caribbean Studies (KITLV) at Leiden from 1993 to 1997.

Her research concentrated on the environmental history of the island of

Sumbawa. She is currently employed as a programme officer at the Social

Sciences Research Council of the Netherlands Organisation for Scientific

Research (NWO).

Sandra Swart is an environmental and social historian of southern Africa. She

received both a DPhil in Modern History and MSc in Environmental Change

from the University of Oxford. She is a Senior Lecturer at the University of

Stellenbosch. She has published on themes as various as Afrikaner identity,

animals in history and social rebellion in, amongst others, the Journal of

Southern African Studies and Journal of African History. She is the co-editor,

with Lance van Sittert, of Canis Africanis: A Dog History of Southern Africa

and she is currently writing the history of horses in southern Africa.

Bankoff book.indb viiiBankoff book.indb viii 22/6/07 12:48:5422/6/07 12:48:54

1

An animal is not simply ‘invented’ as such, nor is breeding simply the out-

come of human endeavour. A breed is as much the product of the subtle

influence of environmental factors and the animal’s innate adaptive abilities

as it is of purposeful human manipulation. Together they shape the animal’s

physiological form and give rise to its identifiable characteristics as a spe-

cific strain or variety that can then be breed for inheritance. The effects of

these three factors are evident in the horse (Equus caballus), an animal that

has been the object of concerted human interest and concern over millen-

nia.1 The horse was domesticated around five thousand years ago in the

steppes of central Asia and its use spread into China, India, western Asia,

Europe and Africa sometime during the second millennium BCE.2 The close

association between the horse on the one hand and state, conquest and

empire on the other is a recurring motif in the animal’s his tory, dramatically

displayed in the Spanish conquest of the Americas in the fifteenth and six-

teenth centuries but no less a feature as well of the European conquest and

colonisation of southern Africa in the seventeenth century and Australasia

in the eighteen and nineteenth centuries.3

Empires are usually seen as exclusively human endeavours, the affairs

of men (and sometimes women), while horses are viewed as the product

of the environment and of natural selection as well as human breeding

programmes. While modern historiography is beginning to explore the

importance of animals and to discover that they may even have their own

histories independent of their utilitarian and subservient roles in human

affairs, little attention has so far been paid to the effect of empire and

breeding.4 The horse was very much an imperial agent and constituted

an important part of Alfred Crosby’s ‘portmanteau biota’ that followed

European colonies and settlement across the globe from the late fifteenth

century.5 Not only soldiers and settlers but also equine genes and pheno-

types were disseminated along imperial networks of trade and diplomacy

Breeds of Empire and the

‘Invention’ of the HorseGreg Bankoff and Sandra Swart

1

Bankoff book.indb 1Bankoff book.indb 1 22/6/07 12:48:5422/6/07 12:48:54

2 Breeds of Empire

as colonial governments and the societies they created sought to introduce

or improve the horse for military, infrastructural or agricultural purposes.

On the one hand, colonists and European settlers at the fringe of empire

created new breeds of horses to suit their own needs through importing

horses and cross-breeding them with local ones or with one another. On the

other hand, indigenous peoples, less concerned by questions of pedigree and

size, pursued their own designs. The resulting new colonial breeds differed

markedly from those of the metropole and even, in some instances, came to

be identified with particular colonial or indigenous cultures. In the process,

new breeds – ‘breeds of empire’ – were ‘invented’ from which the modern

horse in many countries derives its origin.

Animals in History

Animals, as Claude Lévi-Strauss observed, are ‘good to think’ with. Because

of their central place within human society and the powerful emotions they

evoke, they may afford scholars a window into wider socio-historical pro-

cesses.6 This collection of essays reassesses the variety of ways in which

animals – in this case, horses – were utilised and conceived of on the peri-

phery of empire. As Crosby noted ‘man’ came not to the colonised world ‘as

an individual immigrant but as part of a grunting, lowing, neighing, crowing,

chirping, snarling, buzzing, self-replicating and world-altering avalanche’.7

Just as they had done in Europe, Asia and North Africa, horses not only

provided power and transportation to indigenous people and colonisers but

also altered their new environments in various ways.8 This compilation may

be read as part of what has been termed the ‘animal moment’ in the social

sciences.9 Recent historiography is beginning to give greater emphasis to

the importance of animal-centred research and, as Harriet Ritvo has ob-

served, no longer is the mention of an animal-related topic likely to provoke

‘surprise and amusement’ as was the case twenty years ago.10

‘Animal studies’ is now a growing academic field, and wide-ranging in

disciplinary terms: including, for example, anthropologies of human–animal

interactions, animal geographies, the position of animals in the construction

of identity, and animals in popular culture.11 This new direction, as Chris

Philo has commented, was inspired or at least encouraged by the encounter

with ideas from social theory, cultural studies, post-colonial studies, and

psychology.12 The ‘animal turn’ explores the spaces which animals occupy

in human society and the manner in which animal and human lives inter-

sect, showing how diverse human groups construct a range of identities for

themselves (and for others) in terms of animals. It is argued that attention

should turn to the cultural meaning of non-humans in the histories, anthro-


1. Breeds of Empire and the ‘Invention’ of the Horse 3

pologies, sociologies and geographies – the stories – of everyday life.13

Rather than conceptualising animals as simply elements of ecological, agri-

cultural or bio-geographical arrangements, they can be understood in the

context of their role – both passive and active – in human cultures. What is

emphasised here is the consideration of an extended intellectual territory in

which animals are more than either ‘resources’ or ‘units of production’. This

has initiated the analysis of the anthropogenic use of animals as something

other than either ‘natural’ or unproblematic.14

Perhaps, as Jennifer Wolch and Jody Emel contend, it is the very central-

ity of animals to human lives that has previously rendered them invisible,

at least invisible to scholars intent on mainstream history.15 Of course,

animals per se can hardly be described as uncommon historical subjects.16

Their remains – both corporeal and pictorial – have provided sources for

societies that left no written evidence.17 Moreover, as Ritvo has observed,

they have been studied by economic historians (interested in agricultural

sectors); by social historians (intrigued, for example, by animal-related

social institutions)18 and by biographers (who have written of people ‘in-

volved with animals’ like hunters, and, indeed, even some animals – like the

race horses, Man o’ War and Seabiscuit).

Recent years have witnessed a transformation in the attitude of historians

toward the study of animals. The first change is quantitative: Animals have

simply drawn greater academic interest. Arguably this is because changes in

socio-political ideas are usually echoed by the themes explored by historians.

Thus, as Ritvo has contended, just as the field of labour history followed the

rise of the labour movement and the sub-disciplines of women’s history and

African–American history followed the women’s movement and the civil

rights movement, in the last 25 years, animal-related causes have gained

increasing support in the west. To follow Ritvo, animals can be seen thus as

the latest beneficiaries of a ‘democratising tendency’ within historical stud-

ies.19 Moreover, the development of environmental history has encouraged

historians toward studying animals: many of the issues at the crossroads

of academic studies of the environment and environmental politics have

an animal component, which increasingly renders historical studies such as

this, which take an inter-disciplinary approach to compensate for a lack of

written evidence, important. Wolch and Emel contend that human practices

now threaten animal worlds – indeed, the global environment – to such an

extent that humans have now both an ‘intellectual responsibility’ and ‘eth-

ical duty’ to consider animals closely.20 Perhaps additionally, the ethological

observations of animals as closer to humans than we have acknowledged

so far, the growing rejections of the universality of the nature–culture dis-

tinction, and the human-ecological emphasis on the influence of animals on


4 Breeds of Empire

human culture, all lead towards a gradual rejection of the nature–culture

distinction that has been a central part of the distinction between social

and natural sciences. Other theorists argue that animals were never part of

the modernist project – except, arguably, as commodities – and in the post-

modern moment, particularly with the rise of the animal rights movement,

there is increasing attention from the left-leaning scholars and activists.21

Steve Baker and others have argued that the post-modern project of de-

centring the human subject creates space to place animals within the axis of

scholarly scrutiny so that animals will loom larger in historical accounts.22

The second change is qualitative. Formerly human–animal inter actions

have been studied by historians (and other social scientists) with the princi pal

purpose of an improved understanding of humans’ relation ships with other

humans. Significance and values ascribed to animals, systems of categor-

ising them and ways of utilising them (as food, commodities, symbols

or ‘stand-in humans’) have been addressed by researchers, particu larly

anthropologists.23 Animals exist in the academic literature, but there has

been a general tendency to regard them as raw material for human action

(especially economic) and human thoughts, and a – perhaps con comi tant

– propensity to represent them as passive objects.24 The active role of

animals in their interactions with humans has so far not been addressed by

historians, with the nature–culture dichotomy still strong in their imagin-

ations. Peter Boomgaard has proposed the possibility of writing history that

incorporates the perspective of animals.25 As more historians have chosen

to work on animal-related topics, such topics increasingly have been inte-

grated into the disciplinary mainstream. It reflects two convergent trends,

as Ritvo has noted. One is the readiness of historians who work on other

topics to recognise the historical significance of animals. The other is the

tendency of historians who work on animal-related topics to present them

as part of the general history (of a particular period and location) rather

than ghettoising them in peripheral sub-fields.26

Part of this ‘turn’ looks at the role of animals in identity construction.

As Wolch and Emel have contended, it remains largely un- or at least under-

discussed in the discourse around identities how animals play a role in the

construction of that identity.27 Roy Willis finds in the way that people relate

to animals ‘a key to read off certain otherwise inaccessible information about

the way human beings conceived of themselves and the ultimate meaning

of their own lives’.28 Paul Shepard and others have initiated the discussion

on a broad level, arguing that humans as a species define themselves in

relation to animals.29 In this collection, however, as in the case studies

discussed below, we focus on the subtle, idiosyncratic identities that are

either adopted or imposed by groups based on, for example, geographic



location, race, ethnicity or gender. Philo has delineated the appearance of

a particular urban identity in Victorian Britain associated with standards

of civilised behaviour that stood in distinction to rural areas and how live

meat markets and abattoirs breached these budding standards and so were

banished from the city.30 Kay Anderson, for example, has demonstrated

how zoo practices served to naturalise the imposition of colonial rule and

to consolidate and legitimise Australian colonial hegemonic identity.31 Jody

Emel has argued that a particular form of masculine identity was associated

with wolf eradication attempts in the American West in the late nineteenth

century, with dominant representations of masculinity counterposed to so-

called lupine traits like ‘cowardice’ and ‘lack of mercy’.32 Various theorists

have argued that individuals and communities tend to attribute their own

dreams and desires to animals, including those ‘natural impulses’ that they

perhaps most dread in themselves.33

Some recent studies point to how particular human societies wished to

exclude particular kinds of animals from their homes (because they were

regarded as ‘useless’, ‘wild’ or ‘unclean’). Other studies, like this one, focus

not on exclusions, but inclusions – where some animals were incorporated

(as ‘useful’, ‘tame’, ‘noble’ or ‘charismatic’). These studies, for example,

trace the keeping of domestic animals, like the horse, within the domestic,

military and commercial milieu. This departure focuses on the changing

symbolic dimensions of the encounter between humans and animals,

coupled with material societal changes. Such codings and transformations

become closely entangled in the identity politics of human groups, with

animal images and metaphors deployed to reflect human societal strata and

vice versa.

Whether the animal ‘turn’ is manifested in mainstream historical work

or featured in the inter-disciplinary domain of ‘animal studies’ makes little

difference to either the methodology or the simple fact that, as Ritvo notes,

historical research provides the context for more exclusively interpretive

scholarship. It is in this spirit that this collection seeks to contribute to the

ongoing historical project of understanding our shared past. Materialists

believe nature to be a basic decisive factor for culture.34 Structuralists or

symbolists have often taken for granted Claude Lévi-Strauss’s postulate

that all cultures set boundaries between nature and culture, and use the

opposition as an analytical tool to understand myths, rituals, classification

systems and the like. Lévi Strauss attempted, for instance, to show how differ-

ences between species of animals can be good to think with for humans,

to illustrate differences between human groups. For Lévi-Strauss, animal

species, with their many observable differences and habits, offered a way of

naturalising social classifications and distinctions.35


6 Breeds of Empire

The Animal ‘Other’

Animals, then, have increasing begun to figure in ‘our’ histories. As Ritvo

argues they form part of our epic tales about the early movement of hunters

and gathers, part of the grand narrative of domestication and agricultural

transformation, have represented nature in religious and scientific thought,

and have figured allegorically and increasingly as moral reminders in litera-

ture.36 But in a very real sense, they are still depicted and talked about as if

they were some animal ‘other’, or, as Erica Fudge so poignantly expresses

it, as ‘absent yet present’ in history.37 Edward Said’s ‘other’, of course,

was the Orient, an intellectual framework he claimed was constructed by

western scholars and travellers to come to terms with and even manage

the East, ‘dealing with it by making statements about it, authorising views

of it, describing it, by teaching it, settling it, ruling over it’. The idea of

hegemony is central to Said’s analysis, a hegemony that is implied by the

very structures of the disciplines, expressed in the language employed and

assumed in the histories written.38 It is these same western ‘men’ (and in-

creasingly women, itself an interesting development) who are now mainly

writing about animals. Moreover, they are principally writing the histories

of ‘western’ animals. There is not only an animal ‘other’ but it is still largely

an ‘orientalist’ one.

The historical ‘othering’ of animals starts with denying non-human

species a separate sense of independent history. If animals appear in the

narrative, they do so mainly as adjuncts or backdrops to people and their

activities. While such recognition provides some historical record, it rarely

says anything more significant about them. The implicit assumption is that

only humans have narratives and therefore presumably histories. Animals

are reduced to a sense of time that can only be expressed in terms of gen-

etic inheritance and lack any ability to mark its passage. In particular, the

want of verbal or written sources and above all their inability to express

consciousness deprives them from any participation in history.39 Attempts

to endow animals with a degree of consciousness, a state of awareness that

if accepted might challenge such an attitude, are branded anthropomorphic

and, until recently, dismissed out of hand.40 Yet the relationship of his tory,

narrative and anthropomorphism is central to the construction of a more

animal-centric historiography. Narrative is generally considered the de fining

feature of historiography, the notion that there is a continuum of ex plan-

ations that connects one event to another so that a plot is developed.41

While this confers an inevitable teleological sense of certainty about the

narrative, the factors that primarily decide the outcome are the parameters,

determining the start and end points of the plot. Within these, the essential



element is agency: that the chosen protagonist has an awareness of self and

thereby the potential to influence situations for his or her own purpose.

Without such a sense of consciousness, the subject remains passive, only so

much matter to be acted upon or transformed by others. The argument that

denies animals any sense of self-awareness is therefore central to the role

they are usually credited with in history and to the ‘othering’ with which

they are tarnished.

The modern debate about animal intellect traces its origin to the writings

of Charles Darwin.42 Early animal psychologists such as George Romanes

certainly credited them with intelligence and attempted to clarify its extent

and nature through classifying the many anecdotal descriptions given by

mid nineteenth century naturalists.43 However, the development of ex peri-

mental psychology associated particularly with the laboratory studies of

Edward Lee Thorndike adversely influenced the manner in which animals

came to be regarded during the early decades of the new century.44 They

were transformed from objects with albeit diminished natural intelligence

to subjects of psychological study whose behaviour could be elicited by the

appropriate stimuli.45 The resultant enthusiasm for this ‘more scientific’ ap-

proach to psychology has become the dominant paradigm since the 1920s.

All behaviour, no matter how complex, was explained in terms of learnt

responses with no reference to subjective reflection: ‘animal behaviour was

defined as what could be observed and measured in the laboratory’ and

animals were denied all sense of a cultural life.46

Any attempt to credit animals with feelings, motivations and thoughts

were subsequently seen as anthropomorphic, ascribing human mental

ex peri ences to animals. Behaviourists still maintain that the existence of

consciousness in animals, that is the existence of an ‘inner eye’ or self-

monitoring system, lies beyond the scope of rigorous scientific proof.47 Only

more recently has this certainty been increasingly assailed on the grounds

that it does not conform to Darwinian orthodoxy: if consciousness has

evolved, it must confer some advantage and so make a detectable difference

in how an organism behaves. Marian Dawkins argues that consciousness

and emotions are closely linked and that the intensity of both is heightened

at moments of acquiring new skills or dealing with novel or unexpected

situations. She maintains that there is sufficient evidence to conclude that

mammals and even birds experience forms of consciousness that are at least

somewhat similar to humans and that: ‘we have to be prepared to go beyond

the narrow-minded, rather arrogant anthropomorphism that sees human

conscious experiences as the only or even the ultimate way of experiencing

the world and make ourselves open to the much more exciting prospect of

discovering completely new realms of awareness’.48


8 Breeds of Empire

This general ‘othering’ of animals bears more than a passing similarity

to that meted out to other actors whose historical import has been down-

played or largely ignored until recently. In particular, the depiction of

women as largely passive victims completely outside of time, ‘hidden’ and

‘invisible’ agents (‘absent yet present’) provides many parallels to the current

treatment of animals’ historical role.49 Just as the distinction between

‘nature’ and ‘culture’ was employed as a discursive device to devalue women

and their bodies in comparison to men and their activities, at least from the

eighteenth century, so the same association is still often used to deprive

animals of all sense of any culture, volition or even consciousness.50 The

implied relational hierarchy of inferiority to superiority, according to Gisela

Blok may not be simply sexist but may even be specifically western, raising

some intriguing questions as to the cultural ontology of how non-humans

are generally related to humans.51

It has been claimed that women’s history revitalised the foundations of

historiography by problematising three of the basic concerns of historical

thought: periodisation, categories of social analysis, and theories of social

change.52 How much would modern historiography have to be recast if the

human–animal relationship was made a significant determining factor? Cer-

tainly the replacement of animal power by that of the mechanical engine

would have to be considered a critical historical turning point. But this was

a gradual process that partly coincided with the later developments of the In-

dus trial Revolution and so would not necessarily require a complete re vision

of the current periodisation, though the justification between stages might

have to be signified more clearly. Social analysis would be more radically

altered if the relational importance between human and animal emerged

as a major category of social thought in addition to race, ethnicity, class

and gender. Here, too, the whole concept of what was meant by ‘animal’

might need reappraisal in the light of Donna Haraway’s accusations that

present definitions are nothing more than western cultural constructions,

what she calls ‘simian orientalism’.53 Moreover, any theory of social change

that at tempts to incorporate the relationships between human and animal

would have to consider how their relative positions have been affected by

both changes in science, technology and production as well as adaptation,

mutation and population. Again, such a comparison may entail a re-evalu-

ation of whether what is generally considered historical fact is implicitly

defined in terms of purely human action.

All these arguments apply even more forcibly when it comes to con sider-

ing animals in a non-western setting. Even the more recent scholarship that

fully accords animals both pasts and histories is, with few exceptions, still

exclusively Eurocentric or neo-Eurocentric, about animals in Europe or in its



off-shoot settler societies.54 Animals in the rest of the world are effectively

unknown except as far as they constitute a source of wild and exotic species

to take on tour for spectacle, to stock the cages of western zoos with or

to provide hapless victims to the rifles (or butts) of imperial sportsmen.55

The focus was on the exotic or the epitome of wilderness – the elephant,

rhinoceros, lion or tiger. There are few exceptions to this bias, most notably

Richard Bulliet’s work on the camel in Islamic society, Robin Law on the role

of the horse in West Africa, Peter Boomgaard’s study of tigers and in digen-

ous people in the Malay world, L. Van Sittert and Sandra Swart on the dog

in South Africa, and John Knight’s edited volume on cultural perspectives

of wildlife in Asia.56 While the significant role of animals on a global scale is

acknowledged in the works of Alfred Crosby, where the transfer of species

between Europe and the Americas is viewed as part of a world-altering ava-

lanche, they still largely remain the dumb instruments of ecological change

rather than the focus of separate historical inquiry.57

Yet even as unwitting agents, other species apart from humans transform

a landscape. In some cases, the impact of a single species or order of species

can create an environment that better accommodates their own nutritional

requirements. Plains and grasslands such as the American Mid-west or the

Serengeti in Southeast Africa are not naturally largely treeless expanses

but are maintained that way through the innumerable activities of the

animals that browse upon them often in huge numbers.58 The relative absence

of trees, in turn, affects the climate leading to further desiccation of the

landscape. Such environmental effects can be quite dramatic and some have

happened in comparatively recent historical times so that their impact can

be measured. Often, these animals may not be native to that landscape but

have been introduced through some external agency that is often human

but not necessarily so. At other times, human agency may not even be a

factor at all or may only be incidental, as in the case of the brown rat (Mus

decumanus).59 The introduced species may then explode upon an ecosystem

that is or has been left evolutionarily unprepared for such an onslaught.

As Alfred Crosby argues, the Spaniards did not come alone to the New

World but brought with them domesticated and undomesticated animals,

the grains to feed both, the weeds that came unwittingly in their seed-

stock, and even their own specialised varieties of pathogens.60 Where this

introduction involved ungulates (herbivores with hard horny hooves), the

animals responded to an excess of available food over the amount required

to simply replace their numbers by increasing exponentially until they ex-

ceeded the carrying capacity of the ecosystem to support them. This is

termed an ungulate irruption and has been historically documented in the

case of sheep in Mexico by Elinor Melville.61 Ungulate numbers continue


10 Breeds of Empire

to increase, reaching their greatest densities just prior to the exhaustion

of the original standing crop of native vegetation. As the latter reaches its

lowest density, the migrant animal population crashes so allowing time

and space for the vegetation to recover. After this, animal and plant reach

a form of mutual accommodation, a condition termed irruptive oscillation

that continues to act as a check on both their populations.62 Though, over

time, agricultural progress has overcome these natural ecological ceilings,

an ecosystem is irreversibly altered in the process.

Ungulate irruption refers to a universal phenomenon. While interest has

been directed towards the introduction of animals into the Neo-Europes,

little attention has been given to their effect on more tropical environments.

Away from the temperate latitudes, the introduction of Old World ungulates

did not have such an obviously devastating impact on the environment but

it nevertheless was a significant factor of ecosystem change. Much more

neglected, however, is the subsequent transformation of the introduced

species itself; how the animal changes the environment and how the en viron-

ment changes the animal in a process of mutual accommodation. Humans

may have a direct or indirect hand in this transformation or their role may

be that of largely passive bystanders in the ongoing dynamics. Animals are

not only the historiographical ‘other’, frequently exoticised if mentioned at

all, but those outside the greater western or neo-western world are largely

invisible and have been generally ignored by historians.

‘Inventing’ the Horse: Southeast Asia and Southern Africa

The horse in our story has been ‘invented’ in at least two senses: one, it

has been created in the minds of people as a symbolic or representational

construction; and two, it has been literally morphologically refashioned by

anthropogenic intervention – with the two categories frequently impacting

on one another. There is a measure of methodological disagreement on the

first point. Historians like Ritvo and ourselves are largely concerned with

the ‘real animal’ (with interpretations produced by those who deal with ‘real

animals’ and records to do with breeding, veterinary medicine, agriculture,

and natural history).63 John Berger and others, however, have tried not to

draw that distinction, insisting that he speaks of nothing more real than

human imaginings.64 However, any symbolic or representational use of the

animal must receive the same critical attention as the real beast.65

Good Breeding

The term ‘breed’ is notoriously hard to define.66 As mentioned earlier, a

breed is as much the product of persistent human manipulation as it is



of environmental influence and the creature’s innate adaptive abilities. A

‘breed’ may be understood as animals that, through selection and repro-

duction, have come to resemble one another and pass their traits uniformly

to their offspring. A breed is smoothly defined as a Mendelian population

in equilibrium differentiated from other breeds by genetic composition. Or,

to put it another way, a breed is a population that complies with ancestry.

So a ‘purebred’ animal belongs to an identifiable breed complying with

prescribed traits – origin, appearance, and minimum breed standards. As

J. Lush contends in The Genetics of Populations the term, therefore, is both

elusive and subjective.67

‘Animal breeding’ transformed the corporeal bodies of its subjects.

Clutton-Brock and others have demonstrated that domestication produced

similar changes in a variety of species: change in size (for example, cows and

sheep became smaller; horses larger); increased diversity in traits like coat

colour; and the retention of neotenous characteristics (both morphological

and behavioural) into maturity.68 Jared Diamond and others have postulated

that people originally selected animals for tractability and for distinctive-

ness, which made it simpler both to control the creatures and to distinguish

between them. Once domesticated populations were distinguished from

their wild relatives, however, humans began to breed for more specialised

qualities (like greater speed in horses and larger milk yield in cows).69

Modern breeders often aver that their preferred type of horse (dog, cow

or pig) possesses an ancient pedigree. Although it is evident that divergent

varieties existed in former times, it is hard to make clear-cut connections

from them to particular modern types. (Of course, as Ritvo observes, every

living animal has ancient ancestors, just as every living human does, but in

‘both cases the problem is to figure out who they might be’.) By the mid-

1800s, breeding by anthropogenic selection had become common practice

and the ambition of breeders was initially to effect measurable change.

The first animals for which there were public breeding records were the

thorough bred horse and the greyhound – bred for the easily quantifiable trait

of speed. The leading breeder of the latter, Robert Bakewell (1725–1795),

purposefully concealed the ancestry of his prized animals: their quality was

guaranteed by his name rather than those of his animals.70 In fact, Bakewell

learnt much from the selective breeding used to create the thoroughbred

race horse.71 Until that time, animals of mixed gender associated freely,

permitting uncontrolled haphazard breeding. Bakewell rigorously separ-

ated the sexes, and controlled mating. Moreover, and most importantly, by

inbreeding his stock he fixed and amplified sought-after characteristics. He

utilised a basic system of progeny testing: leasing sires of known pedigree

to nearby farmers, while they supplied Bakewell with records on any brood


12 Breeds of Empire

produced. Bakewell bred the ‘best to the best’, regardless of their kinship

and disregarding the stigma. This breaking of taboo meant inbreeding could

fix a desired standard type, eventually leading to the first ‘true breeding

lines’ that produced homogeneous progeny.

Human–animal relations, however, underwent a change between the

seventeenth and nineteenth centuries as ‘Nature’ per se was subordinated to

human manipulation.72 Donna Landry has noted that genetic potential was

encoded as ‘blood’ from the seventeenth century, representing ill-defined

but potent and innate qualities handed down from generation to gener-

ation: homologous with human aristocracy.73 This notion was refuted in the

eighteenth century as scientific investigation into anatomy and biological

mechanics changed the human understanding of the bodies and thus the

pedigrees of horses.74

Another telling case study from the imperial metropole, even before

Bakewell’s successes, was the way in which anglophone horse breeders

experimented in selective breeding, generating what came to be called the

‘English Thoroughbred’.75 These progeny of Eastern imports were ‘natural-

ised’ as English subjects within just one generation, ready for re-export

as ‘English’ produce.76 On a practical level, Joan Thirsk has shown that en-

viron mental conditions were perhaps as vital as genetic background for

the morphological changes from ‘Oriental stock’ to Thoroughbred horse.

Nutrition – pasturage and cereals that had themselves been improved by ex-

perimen tation – lent substance to the imported desert horses.77 On a more

symbolic level, the ‘Englishness’ of the Thoroughbred had its origins not in

nature at all but rather in nurture as Landry observes. Landry argues that,

paralleling John Locke’s argument for colonisation (that labour invested

in land gave one the right to claim that land), the new producers of the

Thorough bred horse claimed ‘ownership’ of their horse’s ‘national identity’.

This is a pattern repeated elsewhere both in the metropole and in the per-

iphery of empire.78 As information on genetics became common public

knowledge, backyard breeders and small studs proliferated, and ‘breed

standards’ became a matter of popular debate.

Southeast Asia

Research on breeds of horses in Southeast Asia largely reflects the same

limitations as other animals in the non-western world, only compounded

by the absence of records and scholarship.79 The archaeological remains

of horses in mainland Southeast Asia, which are thought to have reached

there via Yunnan from China, date from around the end of the third century

CE. After the Mongol invasions of the thirteenth century, the use of horses



became more widespread especially in warfare.80 The date of their arrival

in the Indonesian archipelago is uncertain though the animal appears to

have been introduced sometime before the ninth century CE, though total

numbers remained low before 1200.81 Horses did not reach the Philippine

islands until introduced by the Spaniards after 1565, though animals from

Indonesia were probably already present in the southern island of Min danao

and possibly in the Sulu archipelago.82 Apart from the Philippines, horses

were closely associated with courts in maritime Southeast Asia, especially

those with upland valleys, so that most of the known breeds have royal

pedigrees.83 The animals were generally small, more the size of ponies,

though recognised for their endurance and stamina.84 They were much

sought after for pomp and ceremonial purposes, though the extent of their

deployment in warfare (unlike on the mainland) is less clear. As horses

became more numerous and less a status symbol in the eighteenth century,

they were increasingly used for more mundane work such as drayage and

cartage, though their employment in agriculture remained limited due to

physiognomies unsuited for work in rice paddies.

The advent of the colonial state during the sixteenth and seven teenth

centuries in the form of the Dutch United East Indies Company (Vereenigde

Oost-Indisch Compagnie or VOC) in the Indonesian archipelago and the

Spanish government in the Philippine islands had significant ramifi cations

on the horse populations of maritime Southeast Asia. The various horse

breeds of Indonesia were traded from one end of the archipelago to the

other, though Java was a favourite market given that island’s dis proportion-

ate concentration of centres of power and population. Horses were also

traded to Siam and southeastern India.85 Given the global net works of trade

and administration of these European empires, however, horses were sub-

sequently diffused on a much larger scale, colonising the Philippines and

even extending across the Indian Ocean where they were also introduced

into southern Africa.86 This ‘invention’ of new horse breeds involved the dis-

semin ation of equine genes and phenotypes from Europe, Asia and America

and their admixture through purposeful state inter vention and inadvertent

natural miscegenation. The resultant breeds were as much the product of the

changes brought about by their adaptation to new environments as it was

the consequences of their close interconnectedness with the wider tides of

human historical development. Moreover, far from being shielded from the

effects of increasing globalisation and technological innovation, the horse’s

livelihood came to be increasingly threatened by both externally introduced

disease that severely reduced its numbers and by colonial science that

heralded an unprecedented curtailment of its reproductive capabilities.


14 Breeds of Empire

Southern Africa

Unlike research on horses in Southeast Asia which suffers from an absence

of records, there is a vast and largely untapped vein of primary source ma-

terial, generated by anxieties over early settler importation of the equids,

the difficulties of using horses in military conflicts, the rise of the horse

racing industry and the enduring controversies over the legitimacy of vari-

ous indigenous breeds.87 While the horse was in widespread use in North

and West Africa from a millennium before, there were no domesticated

horses in southern Africa prior to European colonisation as the tsetse fly

created an effective barrier to their further penetration. Just as in the case

of Southeast Asia, the growth of the colonial state and the rise of the VOC

during the seventeenth century were instrumental in the introduction and

expansion of equine populations.

As part of an attempt to entrench their mercantile interest in India and

the Far East, the VOC established a re-provisioning station at the Cape in

1652. Land was apportioned to a free burgher community with the inten tion

of creating independent commercial farms that would provide the settlement

with a steady food supply. In aspiring to reshape the landscape, these first

white settlers attempted to transform the physical environment through

the importation of horses.88 Horses were the first domestic stock imported

by the settlers after their arrival at the Cape of Good Hope and horses

became integral to their identity as Europeans, used both symbolic ally and

in a material sense to affirm white difference from the indigenous popu-

lation (see Swart this volume). The long journey between the Nether lands

and the Cape militated against sending Dutch horses and so the VOC had

recourse to sending stock from their base in Java (probably from Sumbawa).

These Javanese imports were small and hardy creatures, thirteen and a half

hands high.89 Subsequently known as ‘South East Asia Ponies’, they were an

amalgam of Arab and Mongolian breeds whose ancestors had been acquired

from Arab traders in the East Indies.

Such horses contributed significantly to the establishment and growth,

particularly in the realms of agriculture, the military and communications,

of the early modern colonial state, which began to prosper even against

resistance from the metropole. As in the case of Southeast Asia, the ‘inven-

tion’ of new horse breeds meant the dissemination of equine genes and

phenotypes from Europe, Asia and the Americas and their fusion through

deliberate state intervention, individual efforts by groups of breeders and

by simply economic and geographic expediency. The resultant breeds were

thus partly a product of their adaptation to new environments, and largely

a corollary of their close connection to human society. The breeds became

increasingly differentiated, moving from the stock of small ‘South East Asia



Ponies’ to include English Thoroughbreds imported for the racing industry

subsequent to British imperial interest in southern Africa from the late

eighteenth century. The English Thoroughbred followed a very different tra-

jectory from the ‘South East Asia Pony’ stock or ‘Cape Horse’ with its global-

ised admixture of American and European stock. Different breeds came to

be representative of, and occasionally to represent almost metonymically,

different colonial identities and the rise of nationalisms.90

This Book

The aims of the chapters that follow are twofold. First, to show how colonial-

ism had repercussions beyond those usually associated with its impact on

colonial peoples and environments and also had long-lasting consequences

on animal populations. The second aim is to give greater prominence to the

role of introduced species like the horse in historiography, how it fared in

its new environment and its changing role in colonial societies. In particular,

the book explores the ‘invention’ of specific breeds of horse in the context of

imperial design and colonial trade routes. The Cape Horse in South Africa ,

the Basotho Pony in the mountain kingdom of Lesotho, the Philippine Horse

in that part of maritime Southeast Asia and horses in Thailand share a gen-

etic lineage with the horse found in the Indonesian archipelago. The ships

of empire carried not just merchandise, soldiers and administrators but

also equine genes from as far afield as Europe, Arabia, the Americas, China

and Japan. In the process, they introduced horses into parts of the world

not native to that animal in historical times.

Divided into two sections, the study deals first with the royal origins and

evolution of horse breeds within the Indonesian archipelago, the regional

trade in horses between the VOC based on Java and the court of the Siamese

(Thai) king, and sketches the outlines of the European shipping routes

that carried these animals across the Indian Ocean. These chapters mainly

focus on shifts in the commercial and increasingly imperial ties that linked

breeders and courts to traders and buyers and disseminated equine genes

across the seas. The scenario shifts somewhat in the next section to include

both new players and other lands. The Spanish colonial government in the

Philippines also became a dealer in equine genes with links not only to

Northeast Asia but also as far afield as Europe by stretching back across

the Pacific via Mexico. The narrative then takes the horse to southern Africa

where its evolution alongside both European and indigenous societies is

explored in relation to national identity and state formation. The emphasis

here is more on the way horses can be seen as significant agents of histor ical

change in their own right, influencing the indigenous cultures they came in


16 Breeds of Empire

contact with and adapting to the new environments they encountered. To

tell this story that spans oceans, continents, centuries and (perhaps widest

of all) epistemological and academic boundaries has necessitated more than

one author. This is not an edited volume as such as it tells a continuous

chronological tale about a single subject, jointly written between two princi-

pal authors and four contributing ones. The resultant text is all the richer

for its varied expertise and different perspectives.

The first section opens with an account of the Indian Ocean horse trade

written by William Gervase Clarence-Smith. Here the scale and extent of

the regional horse market is revealed and the periodic changes in supply

and demand detailed. He outlines the close relationship between horses

and colonial commodity production, mining in South Africa and plantation

economies in the Mascarenes (Mauritius and Réunion) and Southeast Asia.

By the nineteenth century, however, the horse trade in the latter had become

more localised and given way to South Africa as a major regional supplier

though epizootics (African Horse Sickness) and warfare (Second Anglo–Boer

War 1899–1902) had largely put a stop to exports by 1900. The next two

chapters chart the evolution of horse breeds in the Indonesian archipelago.

Peter Boomgaard links horse breeding to the political, economic and cultural

developments in the areas where they originate, demonstrating the key

role that royal courts seem to have played in their gestation, and outlines

the trade within and beyond the archipelago. At the same time, though,

he emphasises just how ‘loose’ a term ‘breed’ really is and how difficult

it is always to identify one from the available historical sources. Bernice

de Jong Boers then presents a detailed study of one of these famed horse

breeds, that of the island of Sumbawa sometimes referred to as the ‘Arab’ of

the archipelago. She shows the relationship between natural environment,

mode of human occupation and horse breeding and begins to assess the

ecological consequences of this activity. She also makes the telling point

that while horse breeding may have been suitable for Sumbawa, the island’s

environment was not necessarily conducive to the animal’s flourishing, so

recognising the importance that needs to be paid to non-human historical

perspectives. This section concludes with an account of Javanese horses

at the court of Ayutthaya in Siam. Dhiravat na Pombejra details one of the

earlier trades in horses where the exchange was as much a factor of inter-

state relations as it was a market transaction. In the course of this history, a

fascinating portrait of the role of horses in seventeenth and early eighteenth

century Siamese society is exposed. Again the link between court and breeding



is made but now it is also the colonial state in the form of the VOC that

emerges as the dominant player.

Still in Southeast Asia, the focus in the initial chapters of the second

section shifts northwards to the Philippines. Here the horse was a new-

comer, more of an ‘invader’ than the Spaniards who introduced it into most

of the islands through bringing stock from China, Japan and as far afield as

Mexico. Greg Bankoff first depicts how the animal was forced to adapt to

the new circumstances and environments it found itself in and how its life

was increasingly altered by its close association with and integration into

colonial society. While sufficient inter-breeding over generations blended

the animal’s different pedigrees to create a native Philippine Horse as a

distinctive breed, Bankoff further argues that the horse did not remain

unchanged by these processes but adapted over time through attenuation.

The colonial state’s subsequent attempt to increase the size of the domestic

horse in the Philippines (as in other areas of South and Southeast Asia)

through out-breeding local mares with imported stallions from British India

and Australia also reveals the way in which Europeans had subtly begun to

redefine their own relations to the natural and human worlds about them

by the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

The final chap ters take the reader on a voyage across the Indian Ocean

to the shores of southern Africa. Ponies imported by the Dutch from their

Southeast Asian colonies, were critical in the socio-political settlement of

the Cape. After their introduction, horses were used as draught animals to

effect changes in the new environment, and also utilised by the authorities as

a signifier of ‘difference’, particularly to emphasise the difference between

native and settler, in order to assist in the psycho-social subduing of the

indigenous population. From 1797, two distinct horse cultures emerged

– one followed the im perial British-led racing industry, the other a more

utilitarian use of horses. There followed a conflict of horse cultures, between

those who followed metro politan fashions and those adopting ‘indigenous’

settler modes. Moreover, the divergence led to a clear phenotypical difference

between the race horses, which were of English Thoroughbred type, and the

utilitarian horses, which came to be considered a definite ‘breed’ known

as the Cape Horse, at first not considered of high status but later invested

with the pride of (white) set tler society. Horses, however, could not be

contained within the confines of white settler society. To illustrate the rise

of an indigenous equine culture, Sandra Swart discusses the introduction

and transformative effect of the horse in Lesotho. The development of


18 Breeds of Empire

the Basotho Pony was as much due to its anthropogenic-natural selection

from the original ‘Southeast Asian stock’ as it was to colonial scientific

breed improvement. In the process, the ‘Basotho Pony’ came to be seen as a

symbol of (male) national identity.

The chapters that now follow sketch an intriguing tale of sex, violence,

change and adaptation in the Indian Ocean world between the sixteenth and

twentieth centuries. Though this story is inevitably part of a larger histor-

ical narrative, it is one, however, in which the horse figures as the principal

protagonist even if its agency is often circumscribed by human agendas.


PART ONE


21

Southeast Asia and Southern Africa in the Maritime Horse Trade of the Indian Ocean, c. 1800–1914

William Gervase Clarence-Smith

Introduction: Two Regions

Southeast Asia and Southern Africa both began by exporting equids over

long distances across the Indian Ocean, and yet they both came to con cen-

trate on regional markets towards the close of the nineteenth century.1 At

one level, this reflected relatively limited ecological prospects for breeding,

in a context of accelerating local economic growth. At another level, Aus-

tralia emerged as a formidable competitor, dominating the long-distance

market for sea-borne horses of high quality from the Cape of Good Hope

to Siberia.2

The disease environment stimulated regional trade at both ends of the

Indian Ocean. Hotter parts of Southern Africa were infested with tsetse

flies, transmitting trypanosomes, blood parasites that caused the deadly

disease known as Nagana. Even areas free of this plague were episodically

devastated by African Horse Sickness, a virus borne by tiny gnats. Parts of

Southeast Asia were similarly infested with Surra, trypanosomes spread by

biting flies, and only slightly less dangerous to equids than Nagana.

Regional specialisation meant that Southeast Asia and Southern Africa

rarely competed much in overseas markets. Sumatra and the Philippines

initially sent modest supplies of ponies by sea to India, the ancient magnet

for maritime traffic, but this flow tended to dry up as imports from the

Cape Colony expanded in the early nineteenth century. In the Mascarene

islands (Mauritius and Réunion), the second largest Indian Ocean market,

imports of South African horses faded away from mid-century, just as those

from eastern Indonesia began to pick up.

As regional markets came to predominate, transport by sea also became

less common. Horses bred in the cooler parts of South Africa were increas-

ingly driven overland, to cool plateaus elsewhere in the region. Similarly, in

Mainland Southeast Asia, overland movements predominated, from north-

ern mountains to lower-lying zones. However, geography dictated that large

2


22 Breeds of Empire

numbers of horses continued to move by sea around Maritime Southeast

Asia, notably from Indonesia’s southeastern islands to Java, from Sumatra

to Malaya, and from many parts of the Philippines to Manila.

South Africa exported some mules and donkeys, whereas these close

cousins of the horse were rare in Southeast Asia. The greater incidence of

disease in Southern Africa may in part account for a more substantial number

of mules and donkeys, but scarcely seems able to explain it altogether.

There was probably cultural resistance to owning donkeys and mules in

Southeast Asia, inherited from the region’s Hindu past, which may explain

why mules were largely confined to areas bordering on China. Donkeys were

thoroughly impure animals for Hindus, owned by Dalits (untouchables) who

transported defiling substances, whereas horses were counted among the

most noble of beasts. Mating the two was seen as contrary to nature, espe-

cially as the result was a mule or a hinny, neither of which could produce

fertile offspring.3

A Strategic Business

Equids were highly significant in the economies and societies of the nine-

teenth century Indian Ocean and South China Sea. Horses were central to

many forms of warfare, whether for cavalry, mounted infantry, field artillery,

or the baggage train. They were also employed intensively for urban trans-

port, prior to the spread of the internal combustion engine. Many expanding

leisure pursuits depended on horses, especially riding, hunting, and racing.

Together with mules and donkeys, they plodded along some of the rural

feeder routes to railways and river ports, and contributed to farming and

forestry. However, bovids (oxen, buffaloes and yaks), or even elephants and

camels, were often preferred for rural transport and productive activities.

Horses were occasionally eaten, depending on local food taboos, but were

only specifically bred for meat and milk in Mongolian and Turkic parts of

Inner Asia.

Commercial intelligence and plentiful capital were crucial to success in

the maritime trade in equids. Prices fluctuated rapidly in response to demand,

and supply factors were difficult to predict. Because of its stra tegic nature,

the trade was monitored by governments, which sometimes intervened

some what clumsily, as either purchasers or regulators. Shipping required

considerable amounts of working capital, for live animals needed much care

and attention on board ship. Returns could be very substantial, but risks

were high, especially prior to the introduction of steamers. Food and water

might run short, notably if ships were becalmed, epizootics could easily

break out, and poorly treated or storm-tossed animals could run amok.


2. Southeast Asia and Southern Africa, 1800–1914 23

Around 1910, a very roughly estimated 30 million equids, or a little

under a fifth of the world’s total, were scattered around the lands bordering

on the Indian and Western Pacific oceans, excluding Inner Asia. Southeast

Asia accounted for about 1,111,000 horses, compared to around 842,000

horses and 480,000 mules and donkeys in Southern Africa.4 Equids were

mainly bred in dry and temperate areas, conducive to fertility and health.

Level, lightly populated, and calcareous lands allowed for good muscle and

bone formation. Cool uplands and dry zones were often favoured in these

tropical and subtropical climates.

India and China had for centuries been the ‘sinks’ for horses in the

region, drawing their supplies mainly by land from the teeming herds of

Inner Asia. A maritime trade had gradually come to supplement overland

flows, with the Persian Gulf as the main supplier and India as the main

importer. To a lesser extent, the lower reaches of the Red Sea, Burma, parts

of Maritime Southeast Asia, the Ryukyu Islands and Korea also exported

horses by sea.5

It was not until the late eighteenth century that South Africa began to

enter these maritime markets. Soon after they settled at the Cape in 1652,

the Dutch brought horses from Persia and Java, and fresh breeding stock

later came from Europe and the Americas.6 Donkeys from the Cape Verde

Islands arrived in the eighteenth century, giving rise to some mule breed-

ing.7 Horses passed into indigenous hands from around 1822, and the Sotho

became the most successful indigenous Africans in this domain.8

Australia apparently obtained its first horses from South Africa in 1788,

and they throve in a highly favourable environment, containing few diseases

or natural predators. There were successive additions of English, Arab,

Timorese, and Chilean blood. The name Walers, derived from New South

Wales, was progressively applied to horses of every breed, type and origin,

sometimes even including those from New Zealand. Exports only really took

off in the mid-nineteenth century.9

In terms of imports, the nineteenth century exhibited a mix of continuity

and change. India consolidated its position as the main maritime destination

for equids, coming mainly from the Persian Gulf, South Africa and Australia.

The Mascarenes, developing intensive sugar cane production, were relative

newcomers, seeking equids from an astonishing variety of regions, namely

Australia, Eastern Indonesia, the Persian Gulf, Ethiopia, South Africa, the

River Plate, North Africa, and Europe. Continental Southern Africa grad-

ually shifted from net exporter to net importer, as a result of the ‘mineral

revo lution’ of the 1860s. Southeast Asia’s towns increased their horse con-

sumption greatly, usually tapping into regional resources. East Asia played

little part in the maritime trade in equids, as China was served essentially


24 Breeds of Empire

by overland routes. However, Japan occasionally entered the market quite

aggressively, notably in times of war.10

The Rise and Fall of South Africa’s Maritime Exports

South Africa initially benefited from a major British strategic headache, the

drying up of India’s traditional Inner Asian sources of equids. This was only

partially compensated by increasing imports from the Persian Gulf, especially

as most Arab horses were fairly small.11 To make matters worse, there was

a marked fall in horse and mule breeding in northwestern India, probably

due to the increasing cultivation of pasture land and the dis ruption of trans-

humance routes.12

The first recorded shipment of ‘Capers’ to India was in 1769, but exports

remained spotty for decades.13 After the British had secured possession of

the Cape in 1814–1815, Lord Charles Somerset contacted Madras Presidency

officers about increasing exports. In 1816, he proposed supplying India with

several hundred horses a year, transported on East India Company ships.

The Company demurred, and exports continued to be sporadic, often limit-

ed to animals bought at the Cape by British personnel bound for India.14

Nevertheless, purchases were stimulated by the success of South African

horses on the Calcutta race track from 1812, and their popularity with Brit-

ish officers in India.15 Thus, the horse trade slowly became significant for

certain South African farmers.16

South African exports to India became more regular from the 1840s,

although rather high prices limited the flow to some 50 a year from 1841

to 1850.17 At the time, Cape ports were sending about 200 horses a year

to Mauritius.18 Capers were only a partial solution to British problems in

India, however. To be sure, they were tough and well adapted to trop ical con-

ditions, making excellent cavalry remounts. They were somewhat under sized

for horsed artillery, however, even if taller than Persian Gulf and ‘native’

breeds. A team of eight 15 hand Capers was allocated to a six-pound gun,

whereas six horses would have been usual in Europe.19 Capers were chiefly

bought in Bombay and Madras presidencies, but also reached Calcutta and

Ceylon.20

The ‘Indian Mutiny’ of 1857–1858 brought exports to a brief peak. Brit-

ish military agents bought 5,482 horses and 108 mules in South Africa from

1857 to 1861, generating a windfall gain of £215,645 in export revenues.21

The British also procured a similar number of horses from Australia.

Symbolic ally, Sir Henry Havelock made his official entry into Lucknow on

a South African mount, while the legendary George Hodson rode an Aus-

tralian horse at the relief of Delhi.22 From then on, British officials sought



to privilege regular supplies from these imperial territories, carried on

steamers.

Despite this, South Africa’s overall horse exports fell away markedly from

the 1860s, as suggested in Table 2.1. Even when they seemed to grow again

in the early twentieth century, they were more or less balanced by imports,

and net imports of mules stood at around 2,500 a year in 1911–1914.23

Some factors put forward to explain this trend are far from convincing.

Warfare in Southern Africa only briefly constrained supplies. Moreover, a

healthy trade should have spawned its own transport, even if less shipping

was temporarily available after the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869.24

Disease might appear to have been a more serious problem, although

there are difficulties with this explanation as well. African Horse Sickness oc-

casionally surged southwards, ravaging South Africa with epizootics approxi -

mately every 20 years. A severe outbreak in the mid-1850s was esti mated to

have killed nearly 65,000 horses.25 Such epizootics had a transitory impact,

however, for the horse population of the Cape and Natal rose from 145,000 in

1855 to 446,000 in 1899.26 This increase also casts doubt on alleged competi-

tion for pasture from merino sheep, goats and ostriches.27

South Africa’s ‘mineral revolution’ constitutes a much more con vincing

explanation for falling exports from the late 1860s, as internal prices rose to

the point that Capers ceased to be competitive in India.28 Indeed, breeders

no longer strove to meet the requirements of Indian artillery units, since

they could easily find local purchasers for smaller horses.29 Although plans

to send Caper remounts to India lingered on till the 1890s, the trade was

over.30 The use of steamers from the early 1880s cemented Australia’s advan-

tage on the Indian market, eliminating many of the delays and dangers that

had attended the trade in sailing vessels over a longer distance and with less

predictable winds.31

2.1 Horse Exports from Southern Africa to all Destinations, 1827–1918

Table 2.1 Horse Exports from Southern Africa to all Destinations, 1827–1918.32

Cape ports only South Africa

1827 319

1833–39 average 284

1841–50 average 234

1857–61 average 1,096

1865 98

1870 175

1875 29

1880–85 average 90

1911–18 average 788


26 Breeds of Empire

Demand within Southern Africa was varied. ‘Horse-whims’, large wooden

wheels powered by equids, raised ore from open diamond pits in Kim ber-

ley.33 More significant was surging demand from transport riders. For people

and goods needing to go at a faster pace than ox-wagons, entre preneurs

harnessed horses, donkeys, mules, and even domesticated zebras.34 The

progressive opening up of the continent also redirected South African ex-

ports overland, notably to the Rhodesias, South West Africa, Angola, and

Mozam bique.35

The evolution of the multinational Vanrenen family reflected these

changing trends. Originally Prussian aristocrats exiled to the Cape, they

fitted their name into a Dutch spelling, and became anglicised. One family

member was involved in breeding horses for the Indian market in South

Africa in the early nineteenth century. Henry Vanrenen began exporting

Australian horses to India from the middle of the century, helped by his

brothers serving as cavalry officers. It was this latter branch of the business

that became crucial to family fortunes, whereas South African operations

declined.36

The Second Anglo–Boer War (1899–1902) brought an unaccustomed flood

of imports. The British deployed some 494,000 horses against the Boers,

of which about 334,000 were imported, nearly half from the United States.

In addition, some 67,000 mules arrived from the United States. Altogether,

about a tenth of the total cost of the war was attributed to the purchase of

equids, in part because of astounding losses of some 326,000 horses, very

few of which were killed in action.37 Other military campaigns led to smaller

bursts of imports into areas free of tsetse, notably Madagascar, the Horn,

and the Nile valley.38

Conversely, South African equids bore the brunt of African campaigns

in the First World War. The recently created Defence Force had some 8,000

horses and mules at the outbreak of hostilities, a figure which rose to

around 160,000 by January 1916. After suppressing a Boer rebellion, the

South African army seized German South West Africa in 1915. However,

attempts to repeat this success in German East Africa in 1916 turned into

an equine holocaust, due to the ravages of Nagana. Out of 31,000 horses,

33,000 mules and 24,000 donkeys sent there, only 3,108 animals remained

alive in October 1916.39

Plantation Markets in the Mascarenes

The islands of the Southwestern Indian Ocean were the largest purchasers

of equids in relation to their human population, benefiting exporters in

both South Africa and Indonesia. The cultivation of sugar cane required



many animals for cartage; there were horse-powered sugar mills in early

years, and urban transport grew.40 Indeed, the British urged the use of

horses to cope with problems caused by the restriction of slave imports

into Mauritius from the early nineteenth century.41 Not until the spread of

light railways around 1900 did the demand for equids begin to falter.42 Even

then, a passion for horse-racing maintained demand.43

Mauritius and Réunion raised hardly any equids of their own, even

though the Dutch had brought horses to Mauritius in 1666.44 Donkeys came

in the eighteenth century under the French, who also took horses on to the

Seychelles.45 The problem was that there was little land or labour available

for breeding, so that periodic attempts to cut import bills met with slight suc-

cess. The islands were free from Nagana, but equids suffered from Surra.46

Disease might explain why mules and donkeys were more numerous than

horses, as they were probably slightly more resistant. However, this could

also have reflected the French background of most settlers, accustomed to

these animals.

Whereas cattle could easily be obtained from neighbouring Madagascar,

equids came from many distant lands, beginning with the Persian Gulf.

Oman was said to be already sending mules to the French plantations in

the Mascarenes in the eighteenth century.47 In the early nineteenth century,

Oman specialised in exporting large donkeys to Mauritius, though these

were mainly raised in Bahrain and its hinterland. The trade picked up in the

late 1830s and averaged some 630 a year in the 1840s, with a few horses

to complement it. Although this business was reported to be ‘extinct’ by

the 1870s, minor imports of ‘Muscat asses’ persisted to the late 1890s.48

These may in reality have been drawn from East African coastal areas, for

donkeys were raised at scattered points from Somalia to Mozambique, and

were sometimes exported.49

2.2 Mauritian Imports of Equids 1833–1913

Table 2.2 Mauritian Imports of Equids 1833–191350 (Annual Averages; Some

Years Missing; 1851–1860 Decade Missing).

Horses Mules Donkeys Equid total

1833–39 423 1,040 (with mules) 1,463

1841–50 403 1,553 (with mules) 1,956

1861–70 416 1,092 30 1,538

1871–80 650 2,079 79 2,808

1881–90 499 966 142 1,607

1891–1900 371 948 61 1,380

1901–10 741 477 82 1,300

1911–13 286 102 0 388


28 Breeds of Empire

In the 1830s and 1840s, British trade reports showed some 500 mules a

year entering Mauritius from France, a major exporter in world terms, with

some competition from the Horn of Africa and South Africa. A ship or two

from Mauritius and Réunion called at the Eritrean port of Massawa each year,

bringing around 400 a year to the Mascarenes. Mules increased in value by a

factor of more than ten between Massawa and the islands, but risks and costs

were considerable. The animals were out of condition on the hot coast, and

thus highly prone to disease. Ships had to provide venti lation, water, fodder,

and protection against injury from rolling and pitching. The trade withered

away from the 1870s, possibly because local regional demand was rising,

notably in Ethiopia, but also in the Sudan and Kenya.51

South America then became the main supplier of mules to Mauritius,

although the origins and dynamics of this trade remain to be uncovered. As

early as 1834, 26 mules arrived from ‘The States of the Rio de la Plata’, and

the trade may well have begun earlier.52 Argentina replaced Uruguay as the

chief source of mules in the late 1890s.53 Complicating the picture was a

late nineteenth century re-export trade in mules from Mauritius to India, of

uncertain size.54 France and Algeria probably kept a significant position on

the Réunion market, as French protectionism increased from the 1880s.

South Africa and Australia provided horses for Mauritius in roughly the

same sequence as for India, with South Africa entering the market earlier,

but dropping out after the mineral revolution.55 Western Australia special-

ised in this niche market for a time, probably exporting timber with horses,

but the 1890s gold rushes put an end to the business.56 Australian Walers

continued to dominate the Mauritian turf, however, until just before 1914,

when the island turned to European racehorses.57

The Lesser Sunda Islands of Indonesia found a fairly steady outlet for their

cheap little ponies in the Mascarenes, probably growing out of earlier exports

of slaves. The first certain mention of this trade dates from 1821, and it

remained firmly in the hands of French ships’ captains, with Maur itius a larger

customer than Réunion.58 Just over 100 horses a year arrived in Mauritius from

the Dutch East Indies in the 1840s, and the Lesser Sundas provided between

a third and two thirds of the island’s imports from the end of the 1870s to

1914.59 Sailing ships from Mauritius visited the Lesser Sundas till 1914, but did

not return thereafter.60 Réunion seems to have dropped out earlier, probably

after the French imposed protectionist duties in the 1880s.61

Internal Markets in Southeast Asia

Southeast Asia’s horse trade came to be overwhelmingly focused on the

region itself.62 In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and possibly



before, Muslim Tamil traders controlled a modest flow of North Sumatran

ponies to Southeastern India, a trade that was linked to a parallel one in

elephants.63 Horses from the Philippines were also reaching the same part

of India from 1708, if not earlier.64 This business withered away in the early

nineteenth century, possibly because of increased demand in the Philip pines

and Malaya.

Maritime exports from Rangoon, mainly directed to Northeastern India,

lasted longer. About a hundred horses a year were exported in the 1870s,

with some beasts reaching Southeastern India and Malaya. They were sold

under the name of ‘Pegu Ponies’.65 This name was misleading, for Pegu was

no centre of horse breeding. It has been suggested that these horses were

really raised in the Shan States of northern Burma.66 However, most of them

seem to have originated from Yunnan and eastern Tibet. They were brought

to the Irrawaddy at Bhamo, and shipped down river to Rangoon, whence

some of them were sent further afield.67 The active horse trade of Mainland

Southeast Asia was otherwise conducted overland.68

Exports to East Asia scarcely fared any better, in part because China bred

more equids than India, and was more successful in procuring supplies from

Inner Asia.69 Southeastern China, poorly situated for both overland supplies

and local breeding, was the most promising market. Horses entered this region

from the Philippines and Timor, reflecting ancient Spanish and Portuguese

connections with Macau, but both trades declined over time.70 Australian Walers

supplanted Southeast Asian ponies from the 1840s, and also penetrated Japan

to a limited extent after the Meiji Restoration of 1868.71

Malaya, undergoing a tremendous plantation boom from the 1880s, bred

no equids, although oxen and elephants were prominent in rural transport.72

Annual imports of horses thus ran at around 2,000 in 1895–1897, probably

growing to some 3,000 a year by 1905. Singapore and Penang acted as entre-

pots, redistributing animals to smaller ports.73 Imports came mainly from

Indonesia in Dutch-flagged ships, owing to Dutch protectionism, although

the shippers were rarely Dutch.74 Batak, Gayo and Minang ponies from the

Sumatran highlands were misleadingly known as ‘Deli ponies’ in Malaya, as

they were shipped from East Coast ports in the Deli area.75

Sumatra remained the principal source for Penang, a trade amounting

to about 500 head a year in the late 1890s and early 1900s, whereas

Singapore imported more ‘Java ponies’, possibly re-exported from the

Lesser Sunda Islands.76 ‘Java ponies’ provided most of the draught power

for Singapore’s numerous cabs up to the 1880s.77 They were also the staple

of early horse-racing, after early experiments with Burmese and Chinese

horses. However, Singapore turned increasingly to Australian supplies

from the 1890s.78


30 Breeds of Empire

Java’s towns attracted numerous ponies from the Lesser Sunda Islands,

even though there were local breeds, including the beautiful little Kedu

horses of central Java.79 Indeed, the Priangan highlanders bred the largest

horses in Southeast Asia, at around 15 hands, sending some 3,000 a year

to the Buitenzorg (Bogor) market in the 1920s.80 Among the Lesser Sundas,

Sumbawa already exported more than a thousand horses a year prior to

the catastrophic eruption of Mount Tambora in 1815.81 South Sulawesi’s

relatively large beasts were prized by the Dutch armed forces on Java, but

disease took its toll, and exports declined from the 1860s.82 The golden age

for Sumbawa and Sumba was from the 1890s to the 1910s, whereas exports

from Bali, Lombok, and Timor fell away.83

Official protection of Dutch-flagged shipping made it virtually im possible

for the British to break into the carrying of horses from the Lesser Sundas

to Java, which long remained an Arab preserve. From 1818, all coastwise

shipping was legally restricted to Dutch vessels, owned by Dutch subjects.

British shippers lost market share, initially to the benefit of Hadhrami

Arabs , legally Dutch subjects, who owned many European rigged ships.84 For

several decades, Arab ships fought off competition from Dutch steamers,

introduced in the 1860s.85 However, Arab shippers lost out when special

facilities for feeding and stabling live animals were introduced on steamers

around 1900.86 The Koninklijke Paketvaart Maatschappij, founded in 1888

for inter-island services by a cartel of Dutch shippers, then became the

chief transporter of Lesser Sunda horses to Java, benefiting from gener ous

official subsidies and assistance.87

Arab domination of the trade outlived their loss of control over ship ping.88

They already enjoyed a commanding position by the 1840s in Sumbawa and

2.3 Horse Exports from the Lesser Sunda Islands, 1880–1918

Table 2.3 Horse Exports from the Lesser Sunda Islands, 1880–191889 (Annual

Averages by Decades; Very Approximate; Mostly to Java).

Bali & Lombok

Sumbawa SumbaW. Timor& depend.

Total

1821–30 n.a. c.200 – 129

1831–40 n.a. c.250 – 248

1841–50 n.a. c. 1,000 680 336

1851–60 c.1,000 c. 4,000 n.a. 597

1861–70 n.a. c. 2,000 c. 750 1,187

1871–80 n.a. n.a. c. 2,000 2,966

1881–90 c.350 n.a. 1,851 1,120

1891–1900 c.100 c. 6,000 c. 3,000 c. 750 c. 10,000

1901–10 c.10 4,357 1,302 c. 750 c. 6,500

1911–20 c.1,000 5,065 2,520 c. 2,000 c. 10,000



Sumba.90 The trade was ‘completely in their hands’ in Java by the 1880s.91 Arab

merchants were typically transients at this stage, sending junior members

of family firms based in Java to secure cargoes.92 In the early 1870s, Arabs

on Sumba built temporary houses made of bamboo or mats, with simple

enclosures for horses. After a lengthy physical examination, bargaining

went on for hours.93 As Arabs increasingly took up residence in the Lesser

Sundas, they tightened their grip. Some went into the interior to purchase

horses, but they usually worked through local brokers. Advances in trade

goods, purchased on credit in Java, were the norm, and the final settlement

of accounts followed sales in Java. Horses were either delivered directly to

Dutch military depots to fulfil contracts, or were sold by auc tion.94

Javanese imports of foreign horses were on a smaller scale, but they

grew over time, typically involving Australian Walers for the army and

wealthy Europeans.95 Arab horses from the Persian Gulf were repeatedly

investigated by Dutch cavalry officers. However, they were never considered

suitable, mainly because their average size of 14 hands was too small.96

Breeders in Australia’s Northern Territory were geographically well placed

to break into the Java trade by exporting from Darwin from the 1880s, but

they met with little success.97 Western Australia did better, with exports to

Indonesia and Malaya peaking at 3,109 in the decade 1871–1880, but falling

dramatically in the 1890s, as all horses were required to service the gold

rushes.98

Eastern Australia’s fortunes improved when the Dutch cavalry decided

to replace Lesser Sundas ponies in 1902. By 1907, the whole force was

mounted on Walers. However, this was a much smaller market than that of

British India, for Dutch cavalry units were largely confined to Java, and only

disposed of around 700 mounts at this time. Moreover, after entering the

war in 1914, Australia banned exports of horses to the neutral Dutch posses-

sions, leading to hasty purchases of unsatisfactory animals from China. The

ban was temporarily lifted in 1916, but only for a batch of 250 horses, all of

which were under 14 and a half hands.99

Manila was Southeast Asia’s second great mart for sea-borne horses.100

The city relied on animals from all over the Philippines, with Chinese and

Chinese Mestizos as the main horse traders in the 1840s.101 From areas at a

certain distance, animals came by sea, usually on sailing craft. In 1862, 177

horses arrived this way, just over half from Zambales and Ilocos to the north.

The rest nearly all came from the islands of Mindoro and Lubang to the

southeast, or the neighbouring Bikol peninsula.102 The Spaniards reserved

coastwise shipping to their own flag, although British and other Western

firms employed men of straw.103 The Philippines and Guam obtained few

horses from foreign sources before the end of Spanish rule in 1898, al though

some Australian Walers were sent to Manila in the 1880s.104


32 Breeds of Empire

After Spain’s defeat in 1898, the Americans faced a crisis in the supply

of horses. The archipelago’s livestock resources were ravaged by guer rilla

warfare. Diseases, notably Surra, were either introduced by American troops,

or were spread more widely by military campaigns to subdue arduous Fili-

pino resistance. Prices roughly tripled in a decade. The colonial govern ment

imported thousands of horses and mules from the United States, but North

American equids were costly, spurned local fodder, and had no resistance to

Surra. Private American dealers thus turned to cheaper and hardier Walers .105

American officers eventually followed suit, with military purchasing agents

stationed in Australia in 1904. By 1910 about a thousand Queensland horses

had been sent to the Philippines, largely for military use.106

Conclusion

The First World War marked the swan-song of the global trade in equids.

The conflict moved animals and fodder around the globe on a vast scale,

and losses were colossal, in part because of heroic but vain cavalry charges

against barbed wire and machine guns. This equine catastrophe acted as

a tremendous spur to the development of mechanical forms of transport,

hastening the triumph of the internal combustion engine.

The displacement of horses from their two main niches in Africa and

Asia was slower than in the West, as cars, lorries and tanks took longer to

become established on the periphery. Equids thus continued to be shipped

in the inter-war years, albeit in declining numbers. The overland trade,

notably from Yunnan and Tibet to Mainland Southeast Asia, proved more

resilient. The sea-borne trade’s most enduring aspect was the commerce in

race-horses and polo ponies, but today these luxury animals are frequently

conveyed by air.

The twentieth-century eclipse of equids by automotive vehicles has

ob scured the importance of these beasts in the previous century. In turn,

this has led to a neglect of their role as a minor but valuable and strategic

component in the sea-borne trade of the imperial era. The Indian Ocean

and the China Sea contained a loosely interlinked and overlapping set of

regional maritime markets, of which Southeast Asia and Southern Africa

were only two. More research in needed to understand the internal dynamics

of these regional trades, and how they fitted in with one another.


33

Introduction

In the historical sources and the literature on the Indonesian Archipelago

dating from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, a rather limited

number of horse breeds are usually mentioned. There is some variation

between sources, probably largely due to changes over time, but when that

is taken into account, the similarities are more striking than the differences.

This chapter attempts to relate the existence of these breeds to political,

economic, and cultural developments in their areas of origin.

There is, however, one principal difficulty and that is that none of the

authors considered here has defined precisely what he means by a ‘breed’

(often called ‘race’). In principle a breed is a subspecies that can be dis-

tinguished from other subspecies by its external characteristics, such as

height, colouring, and build. But authors rarely specify the criteria they

have used when they, for instance, distinguish two breeds in a certain area,

while someone else records only one and yet another observer reports the

existence of two varieties within one breed, or even two ‘sub-breeds’. This

is by no means purely a problem of the past; modern biologists recognise

that there are ‘splitters’ and ‘lumpers’ within their ranks. Such decisions are

apparently based on subjective inclination rather than on rigid adherence

to ‘scientific’ rules, as discussed in this volume’s introduction. For the type

of analysis presented here, this is not an insurmountable problem, as will

be indicated below.

First a few general points about horses in pre-modern Asia. The most

important point might be that all Southeast Asian horses are small. Large

horses, therefore, were at a premium, and they were perfect gifts to be

bestowed upon or presented by rulers. Consequently, we witness a constant

stream of horses from and to Batavia (present-day Jakarta), headquarters

of the VOC (Dutch East India Company), which thus became the hub of the

inter-Asian exchange of horse genes. Presenting good horses to rulers was

Horse Breeding, Long-distance Horse Trading and Royal Courts in Indonesian History, 1500–1900

Peter Boomgaard

3


34 Breeds of Empire

so important that the VOC, apart from buying and exporting fair numbers of

very expensive (large) Persian and Arabian horses from Mokka and Gam ron

(from the 1640s), also started its own ‘stud farm’. This was done on a number

of small islands off Jafnapatnam [Jaffna], on Ceylon [Sri Lanka]. Appar ently

the Portuguese had been using these islands for a similar purpose, as they

called them Ilhas de Cavalhos [Horse Islands] and one of them Ilha das

Vacas [Cattle Island].1 From 1666 onward, horses from Java and Makassar

[Sulawesi] were sent here, and at least after 1692 also Persian stal lions.

In 1717 we encounter horses from Bima [Sumbawa] being sent there.2 In

the first decades the stud farm operated at a loss and it was abolished in

1701. In 1705, however, operations revived, and thereafter the stud farm

returned a tidy profit, for unclear reasons. The farm even survived losses

precipitated by natural hazards, such as the death of 105 horses (out of a

total number of 453) in a storm in November 1726. In 1758 there were 647

horses recorded, and in 1762, the last available reference, the stud farm was

still doing well.3

Thus horses from various geographic origins in Asia were presented

to rulers all over Asia. The latter included the Shogun of Japan and the

king of Kandy [Sri Lanka], both of whom were very particular about horses,

to the extent of giving the VOC representatives in Deshima very detailed

instructions on the kind of horses they liked and disliked.4 It reminds us

of the enormously detailed Javanese literature on horses with lucky and

unlucky characteristics (katuranggan). Such ‘horse lore’ was a widespread

and socially entrenched Asian feature.

A few words are also in order about the VOC, as they are one of the major

agents in the story to be told here. During two centuries – from c. 1600 to c.

1800 – the Company made over 8,000 trips with their large Indiamen to and

from Asia. In Asia itself, their ships went annually to regions such as Arabia

and Persia, and to various harbours in what are now Sri Lanka, India and

Bangladesh, where they had many establishments. Other establishments that

were visited annually were located in the Malay Peninsula, Sumatra, Java,

Borneo, Sulawesi, the Moluccas and the Lesser Sunda Islands, most of them

now forming part of the Republic of Indonesia. Burma [Myanmar], Thailand

and Vietnam were also visited regularly, as were Taiwan (in the seventeenth

century), China (in the eighteenth century) and Japan. ‘In the seventeenth

and eighteenth centuries the VOC was the largest single employer of Euro-

pean and Asian men in the Indonesian archipelago.’5 Many people will have

heard of the VOC, associating it with the trade in precious spices, such as

cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. This was certainly an important part of their

business, but the Company was also involved in the trade in much bulkier

items, such as timber, cattle, and even elephants. In this chapter, they will

make their appearance as transporters, buyers and sellers of horses.


3. Horse Breeding in Indonesian History, 1500–1900 35

Sumatra

Horses were introduced in the Archipelago before the ninth century – pos-

sibly even as early as the third century 6 – but are not often mentioned in

the sources dating from 1500 and earlier. We find nothing in the Chinese

sources dating from the fifteenth century, translated and published by

Groeneveldt.7 They mention a range of other domesticated animals in vari-

ous Sumatran ‘kingdoms’, but not horses. However, an early twentieth-cen-

tury author emphasised how much the Batak breed from northern Sumatra

resembled the Mongolian horse morphologically, which might point to a

Chinese introduction at some point in time.8 The Portuguese author Tomé

Pires, whose writings reflect the situation around 1515, only once refers to

horses in Sumatra. This occurs when he deals with Pariaman, a port-of-trade

in central western Sumatra. According to Pires, the place had many horses,

‘which they go and sell continuously in the kingdom of Sunda’.9

Another Chinese source, dating from the early seventeenth century,

states that the region around Aceh in northern Sumatra had good horses.10

It is the only Chinese source in which horses are mentioned in the writings

published by Groeneveldt dating from that period. Around the same time (c.

1620), the French merchant Augustin de Beaulieu saw ‘beaucoup de chevaux,

mais de petite taille’ [many horses, but small ones] in the pastures around

the city of Aceh. His testimony is important, because most seventeenth-cen-

tury travellers only mentioned the many tame elephants and buffaloes to

be found there. However, the horses seen by Beaulieu c. 1620, may have all

but disappeared by the time the English merchants Peter Mundy (1637) and

William Dampier (1688) visited the area.11 After all, the plain surrounding

the city was not all that large, and it is likely that pasture for horses had

been turned into ricefields in the mean time.

A Dutch source dating from 1644 mentions ships from India and Pegu

[Burma], exporting horses – and elephants – from Aceh. The same source

reported that horses were available in Deli, a coastal region to the southeast

of Aceh. A Dutch compilation dating from c. 1700 also mentions Indian

merchants, but this time they are bringing Persian horses to Aceh.12

So was Aceh importing or exporting horses, and was it breeding them

in the area adjacent to the city? The Acehnese may have been rais ing horses

at the beginning of the seventeenth century, but later on, when population

growth must have made finding space for pasture a problem, they probably

no longer did, at least not on a large scale. It seems likely that the rearing

of horses had been taken over by the nearby Batak highlands (see below).

From there they were probably taken to Deli and then shipped to Aceh, or

perhaps there was also a direct overland route. Aceh was probably both


36 Breeds of Empire

importing and exporting. They exported the small but sturdy Batak ponies

and imported the bigger breeds, such as Persian horses, no doubt for the

ruler and the nobility.13

In the nineteenth century, Batak ponies were renowned, but the first

printed source to mention them appears to be William Marsden, who pub -

lished the first edition of his History of Sumatra in 1783. He talked about

the ‘extensive, open and naked plains’ which were ‘entirely clear of wood,

and either ploughed and sown with padi or jagung (maize), or used as

pasture for their numerous herds of buffaloes, kine [cows], and horses’.

The Bataks seem to have slaughtered horses, specifically reared for that

purpose, on public occasions (and to have eaten them). They also hunted

deer on horse back and were ‘attached to the diversion of horse-racing’.

John Anderson, who visited several ports of northern Sumatra between

1823 and 1825, mentioned horses from Aceh, from the Batak country, and

from nearby Batubara, Deli and Asahan. Horses were exported from these

places, and were ‘brought down from the interior in considerable numbers’.

It seems likely that the Batak area, particularly the Toba Batak and Karo

Batak lands, was the place where many of these horses originally came

from. It is pos sible that after 1900, as the Batak uplands became more

densely populated, horse breeding was partly taken over by the adjacent

Gayo lands.14

So it would appear that the famous Batak horses might have been in

existence around 1600, but not yet around 1500. It seems likely that the

demand for horses originated from the northern Sumatran courts, of which

Aceh was the latest and the one most given to conspicuous consumption.

The link between a royal court and the breeding of horses is a recurring

theme in this chapter.

In the Archipelago, horses were hardly ever used to draw the plough

and, at least prior to the 1800s, were seldom used as beasts of burden. In

other words they were not used directly by the peasant cultivators, although

smallholders were no doubt called upon to take care of the horses of the

nobility, either as a commercial venture, or in statute labour (compulsory

services).15

Prior to 1800, horses were mainly employed in war, for hunting exploits,

in jousting tournaments, and as riding animals for the nobility. Jousting

tournaments were held by Central Javanese rulers at least since the early

fifteenth century, although originally not on horseback, which suggests that

at that point in time horse breeding for or by Javanese rulers may have

been of limited importance. From the early seventeenth century onward

jousting on horseback was a regular occurrence at Central Javanese royal

courts. These lance tournaments would continue until the beginning of the



nineteenth century; it seems that at least at the princely courts they did not

survive the Java War (1825–1830).16

It is tempting to assume that when the coastal plain around Aceh

became more densely settled, horse breeding was crowded out, the Batak

upland plains taking over its function and becoming the favourite horse

breed ing pastures. With the Acehnese court having primed the pump, the

Batak area, perhaps also better suited to this role than the plains around

Aceh, was apparently able to satisfy a growing local and supralocal demand

for horses.17

But what about Pariaman, recorded as an exporter of horses around 1500

by Pires? According to Christine Dobbin (1983: 71) the place was exporting

Batak horses, but if one looks at the map at the end of this chapter (Map

3.1) this does not seem likely. Any outlet for Batak horses would have been

located far to the north of Pariaman. The answer is provided by Dobbin’s

own book.

Horses were to be found in the coastal plain around Padang and in the

Minangkabau upland valleys. Nineteenth-century sources mention an Agam

breed and a Payakumbuh horse, named after two localities in the Minangkabau

uplands, but by analogy with the Batak horse it should simply be referred to

as the Minangkabau horse.18 Dobbin explains that these horses were needed

for the transport of gold from the highlands to the coast, a trade that was in

the hands of the Minangkabau royal dynasty (or dynasties). One supposes

that the courts also employed the horses from the region for royal pomp

and splendour, though prob ably not on the same scale as did the sultans

of Aceh. As there had been royal courts in the Minangkabau area at least

since the fourteenth century, it is not strange that Pariaman was exporting

Minangkabau horses by 1500. The story seems to be very similar to that of

the Aceh–Batak–Deli region, apart from the fact that the breeding areas and

the courts of the Minangkabau did not become separated.19

In c. 1800, the two horse breeding areas, the Batak and the Minangkabau

upland valleys, were two of the most densely settled regions of Sumatra.

This was no doubt also true in the preceding centuries. The question is, of

course, whether there is a causal link between population density and horse

breeding, and if so, in what direction the causal arrow is pointing. Horses

need vast pastures (think of the Central Asian open plains and semideserts),

and in tropical rainforest areas, where vast pastures are not part of the

original landscape, fairly large numbers of people are needed to clear the

forests and probably also to maintain the open spaces (usually with fire).

However, when the people themselves were breeding too successfully and

multiplying too quickly, horse breeding may have had to go, as pastures had

to give way to arable lands. So it would appear that we have found a nega-


38 Breeds of Empire

tive feedback loop, in which the conditions of successful horse breeding in

tropical lowland areas already include the seeds of its demise.

Java

The Minangkabau horses were being exported to western Java, where an-

other court put them to good use. This was the court of Pajajaran, which

Tomé Pires called Sunda, a term usually indicating West Java, the area over

which the rulers of Pajajaran held sway at that time (c. 1500). According to

Pires, ‘The land of Sunda has as much as 4,000 horses, which come here

from Priaman and other islands to be sold.’ There were also 40 elephants

‘for the king’s array’. The king was a great sportsman and hunter, and he

and his nobility went hunting all the time.

In c. 1600, when the sultanate of Banten had taken the place of Pajajaran,

the area no longer seems to be a place rich in horses. The king’s horse stable

was mentioned in passing in one travelogue, but another one dating from

around the same time explicitly states that the people of Banten had few

horses, and ‘small nags’ at that. The same source specifies that they are not

used as draught animals but purely for riding, presumably by the nobility

only.20

It would appear that the exports from Pariaman had stopped and that

Banten did not produce sufficient horses even to fill its own demand. The

Sultan frequently petitioned the VOC in Batavia for horses. Occasion ally,

high-ranking envoys were sent from Banten to Batavia in order to buy

horses as well. The Governor-General of the VOC did send horses to Banten

from time to time, including expensive Persian stock. However, one request,

made by the Sultan in 1721, could not be met, namely for a ‘miracle horse’,

sup posedly roaming Batavia’s hinterland. This was the kuda Sembrani

or Sembrani horse, a fabled animal, supposedly dating from the period

of Pajajaran. In the 1840s, the indigenous population of Cirebon was said

to believe that the Sembrani horse was the ancestor of the well-known

Kuningan breed, to be dealt with below. Was this story, which may have

circulated already much earlier throughout Western Java, also known to

the Sultan of Banten? In that case he may have wanted a Sembrani horse in

order to create his own breed.21

The Sultan sent his emissaries also to other places, such as Jepara,

on central Java’s north coast, where they asked the bupati (an indigenous

functionary called regent [literally: he who rules] in Dutch sources) not

only for horses, but also for cows and an elephant (1724/5). More often,

his horse-buying envoys went to Cirebon, a sultanate to the east of Batavia

(1711/12, 1715, 1725/26, 1729). The VOC headquarters in Batavia also



acquired horses from Cirebon (1686, 1696, 1708). The area even seems to

have had a reputation outside Java, as witness the arrival of horse-buying

envoys from Palembang (Sumatra) and Siam (Thailand) during the first half

of the eighteenth century.22

The first reference to Cirebon horses in Dutch sources dates from 1625. In

1680, one of the three Princes of Cirebon was said to have 200 horses at his

disposal. Cirebon is one of the three areas that have produced breeds that in

the nineteenth century were regarded as separate ‘races’, namely Priangan ,

Kuningan, and Kedu. Kuningan was part of the sultanate of Cirebon, a

relatively densely populated, mountainous area in Cirebon’s hinterland. So

again we find a court that has ‘outsourced’ its horse breed ing from the

coastal plain to the fairly populous – but not yet too densely populated

– upland valleys nearby, leading to the production and export of a surplus

of horses not needed by the courts.

However, as early as 1817 the Cirebon horses were already in short supply .

By the 1860s the Kuningan breed was said to have almost disappeared,

probably because the Sultans had been removed from office in 1817 (thus

removing royal patronage of horse breeding), and because the area had

become too densely populated.23

Kuningan was just across the border from Sumedang, one of the

Priangan Regencies. The first Dutch source to mention horses being bred

in this area dates to 1686, and in 1694 Batavia acquired horses from

Sumedang. It is possible that this was the beginning of a new breed of

horses, the Priangan race, in the early nineteenth century one of the better

known breeds. Appar ently there were larger and smaller varieties to be

found within this breed; the larger and more beautiful ones were the pride

and joy of the Priangan aristocracy. There were several attempts to cross

the original Priangan horses with larger, imported breeds, such as those

from Persia and Arabia, which might explain their size. In the eighteenth

century, horses were also to be found in other Priangan regencies, but

those from Sumedang seem to have had the best reputation. Around 1820,

the then bupati of Sumedang was an active horse breeder, crossing horses

from Java with Makassar and Bima breeds.24 During the early nineteenth

century the Priangan breed, possibly an offshoot of the Kuningan horse,

had arguably become the best known Javan race. In this case the ‘court’ of

the VOC in Batavia had evidently stimulated the creation of the breed in

the upland valleys of its hinterland by generating a constant demand. This

had been supported by the Priangan nobility who relished deer hunting

on horseback, and who were actively engaged in improving the Priangan

race by crossbreeding it with European, Persian, Arab, Makassar and Bima

horses.25


40 Breeds of Empire

The Priangan horse may have been the first breed in the Archipelago

to have been employed on a large scale for more mundane matters than

royal pomp, carrying royal messages, and aristocratic pleasure (apart from

the gold-transporting Minangkabau horses). At least around 1800 the more

than 2,500 mares from Cianjur, one of the Priangan Regencies, were being

used predominantly for coffee transport, because they had a greater carry-

ing capacity and were faster than buffalo. But of course such activities were

to be expected of what was possibly the only breed in the Archipelago to be

regarded at least partly as a VOC creation.26

The Priangan breed seems to have been in decline by 1850, and by the

beginning of the twentieth century it had become so rare that Groeneveld

was inclined to regard all Java horses henceforth as one breed. This was no

doubt the result of loss of pasture owing to increased population density,

exacerbated by poor breeding practices. Moreover, the Priangan had under-

gone a political reorganisation in 1878, which put an end to the independent

position of the Priangan aristocracy. Their hunting reserves were put to

other uses, and their hunting days were over, which accelerated the demise

of the Priangan horse breed.27

The VOC, although originally a merchant company, had become a terres-

trial power in the Archipelago. Already in 1620 the fledgling establishment

in Batavia felt the need for cavalry, ordering 100 saddles to be sent from

the Netherlands. When they clashed with the Central Javanese kingdom of

Mataram in 1628, they had not yet made much progress in this respect.

While Mataram deployed 200 to 300 horsemen in the field, Batavia could

only muster 24. As long as they were in conflict with Mataram, horses had

to come from places further away, such as Gresik and Blambangan (eastern

Java). In 1632, the VOC planned to import Persian horses to Ambon, in

the Moluccas, and start breeding horses there, in order to be able to fight

Mataram the next time on more equal terms regarding horses.28

From the 1660s onwards, relations between Batavia and Mataram im-

proved to an extent. The Susuhunan and his bupatis often plied the VOC

with horses, while the Company, in turn, sent Persian horses to Mataram.

The VOC also started buying horses in areas under Mataram’s sway, such

as Cirebon and the Priangan (as was mentioned above), but also in Jepara,

Mataram’s main harbour (for Instance D 1667: 14 and 15 April; 8 and 11

June; 30 August).

During the Trunajaya War (1676–1681), relations between Mataram

and the VOC changed dramatically, the VOC fighting one Javanese party

as the ally of another. In 1679 Trunajaya had about 600 horsemen his

disposal, while the VOC’s allies had 400 to 500 cavalry. In 1678, VOC

troops had captured 125 of Trunajaya’s horses. This raises the question



of the origin of these quantities of horses. In 1656, The Dutch emissary

Rycklof van Goens had seen the Susuhunan’s game park, where in addition

to wild animals the ruler also let feral horses run wild.29 However, for his

armies, his jousting tournaments, and his establishment of service horses

(jaran gladhag), the Susuhunan and his nobility needed a steady supply of

animals, and it is questionable – given the quantities that may have been

needed – whether they could rely on capturing and taming the animals

from the game park.

From sources of a later date, we are familiar with the existence of a

Javanese breed from Kedu. Kedu was one the most densely settled valleys

in southern central Java. Up to 1812 it had been part of the territories of the

Central Javanese courts, Yogyakarta and Surakarta, and before that of the

undivided state of Mataram. Oral tradition, noted down c. 1840, suggested

that around 1725 the Susuhunan of Mataram had started attempts in the

Kedu area to get better horses by way of selective breeding of a race there

already in existence. To this end he ordered the laying out of a fenced-in area

(krapyak) in one of the upland regions of Kedu. Another nineteenth-century

source states that Bima horses were used to improve the local breed.

Older data on the Kedu breed is sparse. In the 1840s it was regarded as

the largest and most beautiful breed of the Archipelago. However, by the

1870s the race was said to have been in decline since Kedu was no longer

under the authority of the Central Javanese courts, and one may assume

that increased population density may have contributed to that.30

Kedu is an area where several interesting and mutually related develop-

ments occurred during the eighteenth, nineteenth, and early twentieth

cen turies. It was one of the most densely populated regions of Java, an

exten sive plain surrounded by volcanoes, characterised by rice paddies on

the valley floor and the lower slopes of the mountains. The region was also

the first in Java to grow smallholder tobacco on a commercial scale, begin-

ning no later than 1746, and apparently of sufficient quality to be exported.

Tobacco cannot be grown without fertiliser, and by the early twentieth cen-

tury animal manure, including horse manure, was used here. It seems likely

that this had been done since the earliest days of tobacco cultivation in the

area, and it does not seem too far-fetched to assume that the presence of

horses may have enabled the local smallholders to start growing tobacco.

Both tobacco and horses seem to thrive in the cooler upland areas, as does

maize, which could be used as fodder. However, two of the volcanoes in the

Kedu area, the Sendoro and the Sumbing, had lost all their forests by 1850,

a phenomenon doubtless linked to the large population of the area and to

the demand for firewood (needed to cure tobacco), but perhaps also to the

need for meadows for the horses.31


42 Breeds of Empire

Central Java certainly already had many horses at earlier epochs. This is

suggested by the previously cited VOC material but also by a much earlier

source, namely Tomé Pires (1515). He distinguished the pagan hinterland

from the Muslim coast. ‘The Javanese heathen lords have richly caparisoned

horses’, he stated, referring to southern Central Java. ‘They are great hunters

and horsemen.’ When he went to war with the coastal Muslims, the king had

2,000 horsemen (and, presumably, horses) at his disposal. It is possible that

the coastal lords had fewer horses available. Pires only mentions the ruler of

Tuban as the owner of many horses in addition to three elephants.32 Could

it be that Kedu was already then the main source of horses, and that he who

controlled the inland areas was also in control of the supply of horses?

Eastern Java is difficult to interpret historiographically. Around 1515,

Tomé Pires mentioned the lord of ‘Gamda’, to the east of Surabaya, who had

many horsemen. More importantly, the ruler of Blambangan, who in fact

held sway over most of eastern Java, ‘has many horses in his lands; he alone

has more than all the lords of Java, including Moors [Muslims]’. By Java he

probably meant central and eastern Java only, but even then this is a fairly

strong statement. Pires named the island of Madura, just off the eastern

part of Java’s north coast, as a place that had many horses too. Around

1780 Madura was again mentioned, together with Kedu, as horse country.

It was even argued that the horses from eastern Java were larger then those

of the west. Eastern Java was clearly well supplied with horses around 1800

(the first comparatively reliable statistics date from about 1820), and this

was still the case a century later. Nevertheless, eastern Java does not seem

to have produced its own breed in the eighteenth or nineteenth century,

at least not one in the same league as those of the Priangan, Kuningan, or

Kedu.

In the 1840s, one author named the eastern districts of Java as the area

with the lowest quality horses of Java (with the exception of Bondowoso, in

the Residency of Besuki). Another author also mentioned Besuki as good

horse country around the same time. In 1860, Malang (Residency of Pasuruan)

was reported to have good horses. In the early twentieth century, another

author argued that in eastern Java the qualities of the Javan breed had been

preserved better than elsewhere, because Europeans had tampered with it

less than in the western parts of the island. And presumably, one would like

to add, because at that time the amount of pasture available there was still

sufficient. Nevertheless, it seems that these horse varieties never attained

the status of a recognised breed.33

There are three factors that might explain why eastern Java does not

seem to have developed one or more famous breeds (at least prior to 1850).

In the first place there was a constant stream of imported horses from the



islands to the east of Java. This was the case in 1515, when Bali, Lombok,

Sumbawa, and Bima sold their horses (and their slaves) in Java, presumably

mostly in places such as Blambangan, Surabaya, Jortan, Gresik, and Tuban.

It was still the case at the beginning of the twentieth century, although by

then Sumba, Savu, Roti, and Timor had supplanted Bali and Lombok. Horses

from Makassar were also shipped to (eastern) Java.34

The second argument is that no court or local nobility seems to have

attempted the improvement of local stock, as was the case with the western

‘races’ – although perhaps the princes of Madura, a minor court, may have

been active in this respect. After the defeat of Blambangan by Mataram in

the early seventeenth century, the area did not have a central authority,

and during the eighteenth century a whole series of military campaigns

turned eastern Java largely into a wasteland. And thirdly, we do not find the

fairly (but not too) densely populated upland valleys here that seem to be a

requirement, or at least a stimulus, for creating a popular breed.

Having dealt with the various regions of Java, what can be said about

the island as a whole? In the first place it would appear that around 1500

horses had gained in importance since 1365. Although horses are already

mentioned on inscriptions dating from the ninth century, they do not seem

to have been very important around 1365. Horse riding is hardly mentioned

in the Nagarakertagama, and neither are jousting tournaments. The ‘meeting

of the bamboo spears’ to be found in a Chinese source dating from 1416 is

a jousting tournament, but on foot!35

Even then, the numbers reported by Pires are not really dramatic, if it is

taken into account that Java must have had some four million inhabitants

around that time. If it is assumed that based on the rough indications for

Banten, southern Central Java, and Blambangan, there were 15,000 horses

to be found on the entire island, a figure is arrived at of 4 horses per 1,000

inhabitants. This compares rather poorly to the c. 25 horses per 1,000 people

in 1820. The 1515 figure for the whole of Java also pales in comparison

to figures to be found for the Moghul court in or near Delhi (India) alone.

Around 1590, Akbar was said to have 30,000 horses in Agra and Fatehpur

Sikri (in addition to 12,000 elephants). In 1610, Jahangir also had 12,000

elephants, but the number of horses seems to have dropped in two decades

from 30,000 to 12,000. 36

The lower horse/people ratio in 1515 than in 1820 implies that the

number of horses in Java had increased faster than did the number of

people. This was no doubt partly caused by VOC demand, particularly from

the late eighteenth century onwards. As we have seen, the VOC in Batavia

required horses from Cirebon and the Priangan from the late seventeenth

century onwards, actively stimulating horse breeding in these regions. At-


44 Breeds of Empire

tempts were undertaken to improve the Priangan horses from 1736 if not

earlier, and a stud farm established in Bandung by the Governor-General is

mentioned in 1777. Around 1800, all Javanese ‘regencies’ along the north

coast, from Tegal to Surabaya and perhaps farther east, also had to furnish

horses for the VOC’s gladhag.37 With the construction of the infamous post-

road from Batavia to eastern Java by Governor-General Daendels around

1810, a postal service with horses operating in relays had been created,

which was also available for well-to-do travellers who could pay for it. Some

European and Eurasian owners of private estates to the south of Batavia

(Bataviase Ommelanden and Buitenzorg) are reported to have been horse

breeders, or to have had meadows for the sole purpose of producing grass

for horses.38

The trend of a continuously increasing ratio between horses and people

stopped and reversed in the 1850s, as is shown in Table 3.1.

However, Java by no means produced all the horses it needed. This was

so in 1515, when horses were shipped in from Sumatra, Bali, Bima and

Sumbawa . It was still the case around 1800, when horses were being import-

ed from Makassar, Sumbawa/Bima, Savu, Roti, and Timor, and around 1850

when Java received horses from Sumba and Australia. From the seventeenth

century onwards Java also imported high class Persian and Arabian horses,

including the crossbreeds from Jaffna. It could be said that Java had suc-

cess fully ‘outsourced’ part of its supply of horses, thus leaving part of its

‘ecological footprint’ somewhere else.

Occasionally, Java also exported horses. The most remarkable importer

during the period under consideration was Siam (Thailand). This seems to

have started in 1666 and it continued at least until 1814. During the period

1680–1730 horse buyers employed by the King of Siam arrived almost

every year in Batavia. They did not limit their shopping to Batavia and the

surrounding area (where they probably bought Kuningan horses) but also

went to Jepara, Semarang, and even to Mataram’s capital, Kartasura, where

they may have bought Kedu horses. They always bought between 40 and 60

horses, for which they received an advance from the VOC. It would appear

that the prices slowly rose from around 30 Rixdollars (Rijksdaalders) for a

horse in the 1680s to 40 in the 1720s.39 This was rather expensive for a Java

horse, and, as horse traders were rarely gullible folk, it may be assumed

that they were purchasing higher quality specimens.40 Nevertheless, if the

3.1 Number of Horses per 1,000 People, Java, 1820–1900Table 3.1 Number of Horses per 1,000 People, Java, 1820–1900.

1820 1850 1900

25 40 15



VOC had not already established a regular Batavia–Siam trade link, this

permanent flow of horses from Java to Siam would in all probability not

have taken place.

Eastern Indonesia

Bali and Lombok were also occasionally mentioned as exporters of horses

but this was already nothing more than a lingering memory by the 1850s and

there is little other meaningful data. The literature is much more prolific on

the races from Sumbawa and Bima (both on the island of Sumbawa), from

Sumba (Sandalwood Island) and from Savu, Roti, and Timor. These islands

share a dry climate and a sparse population, with large savannah-like areas

where the horses could roam freely. All these islands had a number of rulers

who often owned all livestock in their realms and who had slaves to take

care of the animals. The breeds from Sumba and Sumbawa, in particular,

had an excellent reputation. Savu and Roti sent their horses to Timor, and

Dutch, Arab and Bugis ships picked up the animals from Timor, Sumba, and

Sumbawa, transporting them to Java, but occasionally also to the Moluccas,

Makassar, and areas outside the Archipelago.41

Bima and Sumbawa horses were mentioned as early as 1515, as was the

horse trade from the island of Sumbawa to Java. In the seventeenth century

the VOC imported small numbers of horses from Bima, but also from Dompo

and Tambora, two other tiny sultanates on the island of Sumbawa . Some-

times the sources specify the colours of the horses, particularly when they

are presented as gifts. ‘Yellow’, ‘black’ and ‘white’ horses are mentioned.

Thomas Stamford Raffles, Lieutenant-Governor of Java from 1811–1815

and author of the well known History of Java, heaped praise on the Bima

horses, which were said to strongly resemble Arabs in every respect except

size. Around 1830 much larger numbers of horses were shipped from the

island to Java, and these numbers continued to rise.42 In the sources at my

disposal, the other Lesser Sundas are mentioned much later than Sumbawa

as breeders and exporters of horses. Horses in Timor are mentioned in

1699, but after that not until 1779, Savu horses in 1779, and those of Sumba

and Roti not until 1830. However, by the latter date they seem to be already

exporting large numbers of horses to Java, numbers that would increase as

the century wore on.43

These areas differ in various respects from the ‘western’ regions where

popular breeds had been reared. Population density here was very low in-

stead of rather high, and the areas were almost certainly much dryer than

the Sumatra and Java upland valleys discussed so far. However, the Batak

and Minangkabau highlands as well as the Priangan, Kuningan and Kedu


46 Breeds of Empire

upland valleys were probably not as wet as the surrounding country, as

they were located in the rain-shadow of the mountains. What remains is

a clear difference in population density. It is possible that less labour is

needed when the original vegetation already has a savannah character, and

therefore burns much more easily than (wetter) forest vegetation. Apart

from that, up to 1860 the rulers had slave labour at their disposal, and

similar bonded arrangements under another name probably lived on after

that date. What all areas had in common appears to be the presence of

a state, albeit sometimes a very small one, that was interested in horse

breeding. The advantage of the ‘eastern’, that is low-density, pattern is that

horse breeding was not crowded out by the activities of an ever-increasing

population of peasant cultivators.

It is not so easy to explain the widely differing dates at which horse

breed ing appears to have started on these islands, at least in so far as

recorded by outsiders (Portuguese, Dutch, British). The Sumbawa breeds

predate the European presence, and one surmises that Javanese influence

transplanted an interest in horse breeding from Java to the island. Under the

VOC a commercial link was forged early on, as the Company was interested

in rice and sapan wood from Sumbawa. The political and economic links

between Makassar and Sumbawa may have played a role as well. Although

contacts between the VOC and Timor were also established quite early,

here there was no pre-European tradition to fall back upon, and the trade

link between Batavia and Timor may have been less intense, as no rice

was involved, and the VOC was in fact almost exclusively interested in

sandalwood. Finally there is Sumba, also a sandalwood-producing island

(often called Sandal wood Island), hence the name sandalwood horses

or sandalwoods for the horses of this place. In contrast to the rulers of

Sumbawa and Timor, those of Sumba did their utmost to keep the VOC

at bay, and no regular contacts were established until the beginning of

the nineteenth century. It is not clear why they succumbed to the lure of

money after 1800. The point here seems to be that under similar cultural,

social and economic circumstances, a political decision – to keep the VOC

at bay – may have postponed the advent of commercial horse breeding for

half a century or more. However, market forces seem to have overcome the

other considerations in the end.

Finally, with the Makassar breed, there is again a densely settled area,

and rulers and noblemen with an interest in horse breeding. It is a rather

dry area with savannah vegetation, thus representing a cross between the

western (Sumatra, Java) and the eastern (Lesser Sundas) patterns. Horses

were mentioned here from 1540 onwards. The region exported its horses

to Java, and possibly to other places, at least since the seventeenth century.



The Makassar breed may have had its origin in imported Bima horses,44

although the literature does not mention this.45

Conclusion

During the Early Modern period, the presence of a royal court and the avail-

ability of (upland) valleys with natural or human-induced grasses would

appear to have been conducive to or perhaps even a requirement for the

genesis of new horse breeds in the Indonesian Archipelago. In western

Indonesia and in southern Sulawesi, these valleys were fairly densely – but

not too densely – populated, while those to be found on the Lesser Sunda

Islands were not. In the latter areas, slaves provided the labour that was

necessary for the upkeep of the large herds of horses. In western Indo-

nesia, slaves may have been involved too, at least in Sumatra, but in Java

small holders must have been responsible for most of the horse breeding

activ ities. Although detailed evidence is lacking so far, it would appear that

some of this labour (Kedu) was coerced, while in other areas (Priangan)

horse breeding may have been undertaken by smallholders of their own

free will as a commercial venture. However, some Priangan and Cirebon

peasants should be regarded as serfs (although not fully-fledged slaves) and

the possibility that the aristocracy of the region employed these people to

look after their horses cannot be ruled out.

During the entire period under consideration, horses were traded from

one end of the Indonesian Archipelago to another, while horses from other

Asian areas were imported, and Indonesian horses were exported. During

the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, this system seems to have had

two hubs – Batavia and the stud farm just off the coast of Ceylon. The

numbers involved were probably not significant in relation to the total

number of horses to be found in the Archipelago, but a constant stream

of Arab, Persian, Makassar and Bima stallions must have influenced local

breeds genetically, such as the ones from the Priangan and Kedu. Without

the presence of a body such as the VOC, with its large ships that plied these

waters on a regular basis carrying large cargoes, the trade in horses may

have been much less important, on certain routes even non-existent, which

implies that without the VOC some breeds, such as the Priangan one, might

never have come into existence.

Much larger numbers of horses were involved in trade during the nine-

teenth and twentieth centuries than previously, particularly from Makassar

and the Lesser Sundas to Java, as the latter island was no longer able to

breed animals in sufficient quantities and of sufficient quality to meet local

demand. This local demand also had a supra-local dimension as Java was


48 Breeds of Empire

producing more and more commodities for an international market and its

population was growing faster than before – two phenomena linked to the

presence of a colonial state.

From the mid-nineteenth century, the three Java breeds deteriorated in

quality, partly owing to lack of pasture, partly perhaps owing to poor breed-

ing practices, and partly because rulers and nobility had been deposed, or

– if still in power – were no longer interested in (or capable of) maintaining

them. After 1850, the number of horses per 1,000 people fell as well

(Table 3.1), and after 1890 the total number of horses also went down. By

then, steam power was driving out horse power. After 1900 the internal

combustion engine would accentuate this trend, causing the number of

horses to drop even further.

Early Modern Indonesia seems to have witnessed constant shifts from

one horse producing area to another, which then, in turn, had to yield to yet

another region. This is possibly what happened in northern Sumatra, when

the centre of horse breeding moved from Aceh to the Batak upland valleys

and from those to the Gayo area. A similar set of events seems to have

happened in Java, and when the latter had to ‘outsource’ part of its horse

breeding activities to the Lesser Sundas.

Generally speaking, horses were doing well in the Archipelago, and in Java

it would appear that between 1500 and 1850 their numbers were increasing

more rapidly than those of humans. As was shown in the case of Kedu, this

may have had serious environmental consequences, such as deforestation.

Finally, an intriguing question is left unanswered. Is it plausible to

assume that horse-raising was the reason that people were attracted to some

areas in the first place? Is it possible to argue that some of the Batak areas,

or some of the Priangan and Cirebon valleys became attractive to people

because they could be used to breed horses? One thing appears to be clear,

however: successful horse breeding in the more densely settled areas was

not a sustainable activity. Perhaps its very success attracted so many people

that the horses were displaced. However, it is also possible that population

growth plain and simple, without any causal link to horse-raising, was the

motor of this shift from one area to another.



Pari

aman

Pale

mban

g

Am

bon

Bandung

Sura

bay

a

Gayo

Del

i

M

alay Peninsula

Ace

h

Batak M

in

angka

bau

Asa

han S

u m

a t

r a

B o

r n e

o

M o

l u c

c a

s

Mak

assa

rS u

l a w

e s i

T i m

o r

Rot

iSa

vu

Sum

ba

Blam

ban

gan

Bim

a L

esse

r Su

nda Isl

ands

Bali

Lom

bok

Sum

baw

a

Bante

n

Paja

jara

n

Cir

ebon

Gre

sik

Besu

kiM

adura

Ked

uPr

iangan

Jepar

a

Min

danao

F

lore

s

J a

v a

© N

IAS

Pres

s 2

00

7M

ap

3.1

H

ors

e Br

eedin

g a

nd T

rade

in Indones

ian H

isto

ry.


51

‘Sumbawa produces the handsomest breeds of the whole archipelago;

they are the Arab of the archipelago.’1

In the previous chapter, Peter Boomgaard explored the general traits of horse

breeding in the history of several regions in the Indonesian archi pelago.2

This chapter specifically focuses on one of Indonesia’s most famous horse

breeding regions, the island of Sumbawa. It describes the different breeds

as well as the methods of horse keeping that were employed there. It further

shows the various roles horses played in the economy and cultural traditions

of the island. Lastly, the effects of horse breeding on Sumbawa’s natural

environment are considered. But before all that, a short introduction to the

geography of the island of Sumbawa is appropriate.

The Island of Sumbawa

The island of Sumbawa has an extraordinary rugged and indented shape

with numerous bays. In the lower parts of this island, large grass plains alter-

nate with brushes and trees; residues of forests can be found here as well.

In these parts, mainly located on the north coast and around river basins,

most agricultural activities take place and the majority of the population is

concentrated here. The hilly uplands consist of forests and savannah. They

are less populated and are used for ladang3 cultivation.

Unlike many other islands in the Indonesian archipelago, Sumbawa

does not have a tropical rainforest climate but a savannah climate with a

distinct alternation between a dry season (from April to November) and

a rainy season (from November until March). The dry period can be quite

severe; often in this period Sumbawa looks very arid and barren. With a

yearly rainfall of only 1,250 mm Sumbawa is one of the driest islands of

Indonesia.4

The ‘Arab’ of the Indonesian Archipelago: Famed Horse Breeds of Sumbawa


4


52 Breeds of Empire

Before 1800, human settlements were established throughout the island.

All belonged to one of six princedoms namely Sumbawa, Bima, Dompo,

Sanggar, Pekat and Tambora (see Map 4.1).5 The principal export commod-

ities of the island were rice, honey and beeswax, bird’s nests, salt, sappan

wood and horses.

The Introduction of Horses into the Archipelago and

Sumbawa

Unfortunately, so far little is known about the introduction of the modern

horse (Equus caballus) into Indonesia. Three quarters of a century ago, W.

Groeneveld and J. C. Witjens stated that the Indonesian horse descended

from a cross between Asiatic and African animals.6 All the horses now known

in Indonesia share characteristics of both these breeds. The authors further

maintain that they were brought to Java by Chinese and Hindu merchants

(from India) between 627 and 649 AD. Later, Arabs also brought horses from

Southwest Asia.7 In all likelihood, the horse was first introduced to Sumatra

and only later to Java. After their introduction to Java, there was a slow

equine diffusion to the other islands of Indonesia. But the total number of

horses in the archipelago around the year 1200 AD was probably very small.

It is even possible that the horse was not generally known in Java at the

end of the fifteenth century.8 What is certain, though, is that horses were

introduced to the archipelago before the ninth century and are not often

mentioned in sources dating from 1500 and earlier.9

In Sumbawa the domesticated horse was probably introduced by the Javan-

ese in the fourteenth century (when the island was apparently a ‘depend-

ency’ of Majapahit). At least this is what C. C. F. M. Le Roux con cluded

Map 4.1 The Island of Sumbawa.

4.1 The Island of Sumbawa


4. The ‘Arab’ of the Indonesian Archipelago 53

on the basis that in Sumbawa, both in the West-Sumbawan as well as the

Bimanese languages, the horse is called jaran, the low-Javanese word for

horse.10 According to Nicolaus Adriani, the word jaran was actually derived

from the Malay word ajar which means ‘trained’.11

Various breeds are recognized from Sumbawa, usually simply named

after their region of origin. Authors variously mention different breeds

but no consensus exists in regard to this topic. A complicating factor is

that most authors do not explain the criteria they use in distinguishing the

various breeds. The Singapore Chronicle (1825) distinguishes two breeds:

horses from Tambora and horses from Bima, the latter including horses

from the tiny island of Sangeang (Gunung Api) along the northeast coast.

William Thorn, a British Major, also considered the horses from Bima and

Gunung Api as one breed but remarked that the finest horses were those

obtained from the latter.12 John Crawfurd also mentions the Tambora and

Biman breeds but considers horses from Gunung Api as a separate and third

breed.13 W. H. Davenport Adams only mentions horses from Tambora and

Bima, whereas G. W. Couperus distinguishes between Biman and Western

Sumbawan horses.14 Most authors do agree, however, that the Biman horse

was the best breed. As Johannes Olivier remarked in 1828, ‘They [Biman

horses] are among the best races of Indian horses.’15 By the twentieth cen-

tury, authors tended to distinguish only two breeds: one from Bima and

one from Western Sumbawa.16 The horse from Tambora is not mentioned

again for good reasons as the eruption of Mount Tambora in April 1815

wiped two of Sumbawa’s princedoms, Tambora and Pekat, off the face of

the earth, with none of their inhabitants surviving the cataclysm. In the

other princedoms, too, numerous people were killed. Animal populations

4.2 The Indonesian Archipelago

Map 4.2 The Indonesian Archipelago.


54 Breeds of Empire

were also devastated. As a consequence the Tambora horse breed became

extinct.17

Many authors highly praised the quality of Sumbawan horses. They were

generally described as small (their height at the withers seldom exceeded

1.25 metres), strongly built, intelligent and compliant. They were said to pos-

sess great strength and endurance.18 F. H. H. Guillemard wrote for example :

‘In spite of their small size [they] seem to carry almost any weight’, while

Heinrich Zollinger, a naturalist who spent three months on the island in

1847, concluded: ‘The principal domestic animal of the island is the horse,

which is found nowhere so much as in Bima and Western Sumbawa. That the

breed is one of the best of the entire archipelago is well-known. Yes, many

consider it the best.’19 The most prevalent skin colours among Sumbawan

horses were duns with a dorsal stripe, bays, greys and isabels (palomino).

Blacks, chestnuts and piebald were rare.20

The earliest known source for horses on Sumbawa is the Suma Oriental

of the Portuguese Tomé Pires in 1513. He noted that Bima had many horses

which they exported to Java.21 Another early source that mentions horses

on Sumbawa is the book of the Portuguese Duarte Barbosa written in 1518.

He writes that the people from Cinboaba (Sumbawa) and the island of

Oçape (nowadays called Sangeang or Gunung Api, lying just off Sumbawa’s

north-eastern coast) ‘travel on horseback and are good riders’. Moreover he

calls them ‘great cattle-breeders’.22 So within 150 years after the presumed

introduction of the horse into Sumbawa, the inhabitants of the island had

already acquired great skill and competence with the animals – riding,

breeding and exporting them. These early sources clearly show that horse

breeding on the island antedates European influence.

Royal Horses at the Courts of Sumbawa

Nineteenth and twentieth century literature clearly establishes a link be-

tween the royal courts of Sumbawa and the breeding of, or at least the

possession of horses. The rulers and aristocracy of Sumbawa mostly owned

very large numbers of horses. Zollinger was told in 1847 that the Sultan of

Bima owned 50,000 horses. He considered this an overestimation, however,

and thought 10,000 horses a more accurate figure. Of this number, about

500 were stallions.23 The population of Bima, both the nobility and the

common people, were divided into hereditary groups called dari, which the

Dutch sources often described as a kind of ‘guild’: ‘because one of their

characteristics was the specific nature of the statutory labor each of them

was expected to perform’.24 These dari provided specific tasks and services

for the Sultan. One of these, the dari Jara consisted of the Sultan´s grooms.



According to Zollinger, this dari comprised at least 100 men who were

under the command of the Jene Jara Asi and the Jene Jara Kapa.25 D. F. van

Braam Morris in 1888 further mentions that they were not only grooms

but had to guard and to train the horses of the Sultan as well as care for

the maintenance of the saddles and girths. Van Braam Morris also makes

mention of the Dari Sangeang, the inhabitants of Gunung Api, who were

charged with the care of the Sultan’s stud-farm on the island.26

A special feature of Bima since 1646 is the tradition of a ‘holy horse’ or

a ‘horse of Empire’ known as the Jara La Manggila, which according to M. A.

Bouman literally means: ‘the horse that will not go slowly’.27 The history of

the holy horse had its origins on Gunung Api where a brown blazed horse

with white stockings called Kapitang was owned by Sultan Ambela Abil

Khair Sirajuddin. As the story goes, the Kingdom of Goa waged war against

the Kingdom of Bone (both in Southern Sulawesi) in 1646. In this battle,

the Sultan of Bima, who had married a Princess of Goa, lent assist ance to

his father-in-law mounted on Kapitang. Due to the horse’s reputed prow-

ess, the people of Goa could not be defeated. To commemorate the horse’s

meri torious behaviour, he was given the title ‘horse of Empire’. Since then,

every Sultan had his own ‘horse of Empire’ chosen from the offspring of

Kapitang on Gunung Api.28 This animal was not allowed to be mounted even

by the Sultan.29 Van Braam Morris writes that on special occasions, when the

horse passed the government’s fort, a salute was even fired. The horse was

always preceded by a man bearing the royal lance and no one was allowed

to cross the street in his path. Anyone who did so was fined one real by the

horse’s guards.30 J. E. Jasper witnessed such a spectacle in 1908. After being

bathed, the horse was brought to the market where rice, fruits and sweet

potatoes were collected to feed it. What was left over was divided among the

by standers who accounted such foodstuffs a blessing that brought luck.31

Both the Jene Jara and the Jara La Manggila played a role in the cere-

mony called Tuharlanti conducted to install a successor to the throne as

Sultan. Before the actual beginning of the inauguration ceremony the Jene

Jara demonstrated their agility and equine skills. The horses, of course, were

specially dressed for such an occasion with ornaments and decorations.

Then the functionaries of the Sultan swore allegiance to him. During the

ceremony, the Sultan was accompanied by the ‘holy horse’ which was also

installed during a rite in which the Jene Jara paid homage to and took an

oath of fealty to the animal.32 Another occasion on which horses played

an important role and one which is still practised today is the U’a Pua (or

Sirih Puan) ceremony held on Maulud, the birthday of Mohammed. In this

ceremony, several groups of horsemen perform manoeuvres and demon-

strate martial arts on horseback.33


56 Breeds of Empire

Apart from these ceremonies, horses also figure in Bima folk-stories and

folk-beliefs. It was believed, for instance, that every five years a sea-horse

visited the mares of the island of Gunung Api, which, after being serviced by

him in his own element, brought forth ‘the breed which is so beautiful and

valuable’.34 In another story, the horses of Bima play a more heroic role. The

story tells how Prince Diponegoro famed for his rebellion against the Dutch

in Central Java between 1825 and 1830 requested cavalry horses from the

Sultan of Bima. They were dispatched to Java but arrived late, holding up

the advance on the Dutch.35

Only the Sultan of Bima, the Ruma Bicara (Chief Minister) and the Dutch

administrator (Gezaghebber) kept some of their horses in stables or on stud-

farms, where the horses were provided with proper care and feeding.36 This

fostered their quality and, as a consequence, the trade-value of these horses.

The ordinary people could not afford to build stables and simply let their

horses freely wander in the pastures of Sumbawa. Van Braam Morris men-

tions that the Sultan’s stud-farms were in the regions of Laambu, Kangga,

Paie, Poja, Wera, Saie and on the island of Gunung Api. Moreover, J. P. Freijss

noted that the Sultan of Bima even had his own boats for exporting horses

to other islands, so avoiding transportation costs and making the whole

enterprise all the more profitable. The returns were high and Van Braam

Morris estimated that the Sultan’s profits from horse trading amounted to

about 1,000 guilders yearly.37

Less is known about horses at the court of Western Sumbawa. As in

Bima, the Sultan of Western Sumbawa possessed a great many horses and

just as in Bima the population were divided into a complicated system of

hereditary groups, the Tou Juran and the Tou Kamutar that had to provide

labour services for the Sultan. In Western Sumbawa, however, the nobility was

excluded from this system.38 The Tou Juran had to work on the rice fields

of the Sultan. The Tou Kamutar were subdivided into small family groups

called ruwe that resembled the dari in Bima. One of these ruwe was called

Tou rabowat aji, literally meaning ‘workpeople for the sovereign’. One group

were obliged to cut grass for the Sultan’s horses and another had to do the

same for the horses of the Dea Ranga (Chief Minister). Albertus Ligtvoet also

mentions that the Sultan of Western Sumbawa used the uninhabited island of

Ngali, located in the Bay of Sumbawa, to graze his colts and let them develop

into fine stallions.39 According to Jasper, much the same use was made by the

Sultan of Western Sumbawa of the island of Moyo.40

The Value of Horses

In a relatively inaccessible, hilly area such as Sumbawa, horses were in dispens-

able for transporting goods (both as beasts of burden and draught animals)



and people (as riding animals and pulling carriages – locally called cidomo,

Ben Hur or dokar).41 This was especially true at a time when the roads on

Sumbawa were still very few and bad (roughly speaking this was the case

until the second half of the twentieth century). Horses increased people’s

mobility and provided their main means of transportation. Many horse-tracks,

therefore, could be found on Sumbawa, linking one village to another.42 Gerrit

Kuperus remarked: ‘Only by using horses as riding and transport animals, is

traffic possible between kampung [settlements] often located far from one

another.’43 Horses were also used in hunting, especially in deer hunts, as many

Rusa deer (Cervus timorensis) were found on Sumbawa. Deer were hunted

for their meat which formed an important additional item to the local diet

especially after the introduction of Islam at the beginning of the seventeenth

century when pigs became a forbidden food. Moreover, deer flesh in the form

of dendeng (dried meat) was exported to Java and Celebes.44 Finally, horses

were also used in warfare but never for agriculture as was usual in Europe. On

Sumbawa, only buffalos were used for this purpose. Horses, therefore, were

of major economic importance in the local economy of Sumbawa. To the local

people, they represented cap ital: horses were never eaten or reared as beef

cattle (with just one exception to this rule, however, which will be mentioned

below) as this incurred a loss of capital.45

Besides their use-value, horses also had vast trade-value. Important of-

ficials in the Verenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie (VOC, United East India

Company) who wanted to monopolise the trade with Sumbawa were regu-

larly presented with Sumbawan horses in return for the gifts of textiles and

opium.46 The Sultans and inhabitants of Sumbawa also obtained their weapons

in this way. Horses were exchanged for guns, lead and gunpowder.47 The

Dutch soon discovered the fine quality of the horses and began to purchase

them increasingly. From the Overgekomen Brieven en Papieren (or OBP in The

National Archive, The Hague) it appears that Adriaan van Dalen was ordered

to buy 20 to 30 horses in the year 1672.48 He was further commanded to buy

only those horses that were young and strong. The following year, 60 horses

were purchased and a sum of about 22 rixsdollars (rijksdaalders) for one

horse was paid, a not inconsiderable amount of money at that time. Horses

had already been exported to other islands by perahu (proa), especially to

Java, Southern Sulawesi and to Southeast Borneo. The principal destinations

on Java were Batavia and Surabaya where the horses were mainly used as

draught animals. In Southern Sulawesi and Southeast Borneo, the horses

were chiefly employed for hunting- and war-purposes. Sometimes, though,

the horses of Sumbawa were transported further away. In 1717, the VOC

transported horses from Bima to Ceylon where the company possessed its

own stud-breeding facilities.49


58 Breeds of Empire

Around 1800, the little realm of Tambora, situated on the peninsula of

Sanggar had developed into an important horse-trade-centre.50 Every year

more than 1,000 animals were exported from this area. However, this situ-

ation came to an abrupt end when Tambora’s volcano erupted with great

violence. The results were disastrous for the whole island.51 Some 10,000

inhabitants of the island died in the disaster as well as many horses. The

whole island was blanketed in a thick covering of ash that stifled agri cultural

and pastoral pursuits. A great famine followed for men and beasts as well as

an acute lack of drinking water that claimed many more human and horse

lives. The economy of the island collapsed and the horse-trade came to a

total standstill. The hardship was so severe that people were forced to seek

alternative sources of nourishment and for the first time ate their horses in

order to survive. This is the only time that the sources mention horse meat

as foodstuff on Sumbawa.52

In the decades following the disaster, the situation recovered slowly. In

1821 Caspar Reinwardt paid a visit to Bima and observed that there were few

horses and that only about one hundred were being exported.53 After 1830,

export of horses began again very cautiously but was limited to between one

hundred and three hundred animals a year. Emanuel Francis visiting Bima

in 1831 spoke of ‘a fair amount of horses’ and that in his opinion about 300

horses were exported from Bima to Java.54 When Heinrich Zollinger arrived

on the island in 1847, the horse population had recovered completely. He

wrote that horses were seen there ‘in an almost unbelievable multitude’ and

that anywhere one went on the island, one met horses gathered in enormous

herds: in the meadows, in the mountains, in the valleys, in fallowed rice

paddies and also in the most desolate wildernesses. Also the horse trade

had got well under way again. Between 800 and 1,000 animals were annually

exported to Bali, Lombok, Java, Bonthain, Singapore, Riouw and Malakka

and brought a price of between 40 and 50 guilders each.55 Every year ships

even came from Mauritius and Bourbon to buy horses in Sumbawa.56

In 1854, J. P. Freijss estimated that Bima alone was exporting about

2,000 horses a year and that Western Sumbawa traded a further 3,000 or

so. He noted the seasonality of the horse trade. During the east monsoon

(from April until November) in particular, horses were transported by ships

because the strong eastbound wind shortened the journey time to Java.57

Prices for horses fluctuated between 20 and 50 guilders and the profits

to be made attracted Arab traders to Sumbawa who had monopolised the

trade by the end of the nineteenth century.

At the beginning of the twentieth century, the export of horses from

Sumbawa reached its peak. At that time, the island possessed between

80,000 and 100,000 horses or between ten to fifteen per cent of the total



horse population in the Netherlands East Indies and the number exported

amounted to about 5,000 annually.58 Most were exported to Java, mainly to

Surabaya and Batavia but also to Semarang, Jember, Pasuruan and Besuki

where they were used in the so-called gerobak.59 Horses left Sumbawa

through the harbours of Sumbawa Besar, Bima and Taliwang. Prior to 1910,

horses were transported by local perahu or Arab schooner but between

1910 and 1920 the Koninklijke Paketvaart Maatschappij (KPM or Royal Mail

Service) instituted a special veelijn (cattle line) between Java and the Lesser

Sunda Islands.60 Every fortnight, this steamer touched at Sumbawa Besar

and Bima, loaded horses and transported them to Java. These cattle boats

had stables on board and were staffed with kulis from the island of Lombok

who brought the horses aboard.61 Special loading-boats were used for this

purpose and replaced the prior practice whereby horses had to swim out

to the transport boats and were then hoisted aboard. During the passage to

Java, the kulis stayed aboard to look after the horses.62 As the capacity of

these KPM steamers was much greater than that of the local perahu, more

and more horses were exported by these boats. However, transport by local

perahu continued and the competition between the two remained fierce.

It was at this point that the Dutch colonial government started to inter-

fere in the island’s horse trade. They were convinced that Arab middlemen

and their suppliers on Sumbawa were only interested in short-term profits

and selected only the best horses which they sold as expensively as possible.

The long-term consequences of this policy, the Dutch thought, would result

in only inferior horses being left on the island and to a deterioration in the

quality of the stock.63 The colonial government, therefore, took a number of

measures to improve the breed.64 A veterinary service to combat veterinary

diseases was founded in 1912 and located in Sumbawa Besar, while at the

same time a number of Arab and Australian stallions were purchased to

cover with local mares and improve the stock. This programme ended in

complete failure as the ensuing offspring were not well proportioned.65

An alternative improvement programme followed quickly. This was

called the reinteelt programme (selective breeding). The measures taken

within this programme implied that from now on a careful selection of

stallions and mares needed to take place and that inferior stallions had

to be castrated.66 Moreover, horses had to be meticulously registered and

export-limits had to be formulated. These measures proved very unpopular

among the inhabitants of the island. On Java and the rest of the archipelago

as elsewhere, geldings and mares were considered to possess less strength

than stallions. For the local people of Sumbawa this meant that mares and

geldings had little commercial value. Stallions fetched the best prices and

the most lucrative profits were to be made from selling these first. Such


60 Breeds of Empire

sentiments may explain why the reinteelt programme did not have the

intended effects.

In the meantime, the horse trading continued as usual. During this

period, Sumbawa had to cope with tremendous competition from the other

equine-exporting islands such as Sawu, Timor and Sumba. In particular,

rivalry with the famed Sandalwood Horse (from Sumba) was great. However,

the horses from Sumbawa were cheaper and the island lay in a more favour-

able location for transportation to Java and Sulawesi than did Sumba. These

factors help explain how Sumbawa maintained a competitive position and

remained the largest exporter of horses in the archipelago.67

From the 1920s, motorised traffic appeared on the scene. The role that

draft and pack horses had formerly played began to decline. The demand

for horses diminished and prices fell. Some people even predicted that the

horse trade would come to a definitive end.68 However, this was not the

case. Although the number of horses on Sumbawa gradually decreased,

its population today at about 53,000 animals can still be called substan-

tial. Moreover, the inter-island trade in horses continues.69 The high cost

of motor ised vehicles ensures that a certain demand for horses persists.

Besides that, the use-value of horses remains high on Sumbawa. In out-of-

the-way, hilly regions of the island, horses are still indispensable for the

transportation of both people and goods. Moreover, many Ben Hurs can still

be seen along the streets of the regional capitals of Sumbawa Besar and

Bima despite the great competition of minibuses.

Horse-Keeping Methods and the Environment

Two methods of keeping horses existed on Sumbawa. The first involved

keeping one or two horses around the house for daily use, especially as draft

or pack animals. The second method involved breeding horses. This horse-

breeding was not very labour-intensive. Horses in so called couples (one

stallion and a number of mares) were left to wander around freely, grazing

on the plains, in fallow fields and harvested paddies where they enjoyed

complete reproductive freedom. As the horses fed themselves, little time

was required to take care of them. At most, cultivated lands had to be fenced

off. This method of horsebreeding was called ‘semi-wild’ breeding because

sometimes the animals reverted back to their former ‘wild’ status.70

This labour-extensive method of horse-breeding was particularly well

adapted to conditions on Sumbawa as the island was relatively sparsely

inhabited. Its population was estimated at between 170,000 to 300,000

people prior to 1815, resulting in a low average of about 11–19 persons per

square kilometre.71 As a result labour was scarce but there was land aplenty.



Therefore, the principal form of agriculture on the island, ladang, was also

consequently not labour-intensive. With ladang agriculture, the original

vege tation of the land is felled and set on fire, after which it is cultivated

for one or two years and then allowed to remain fallow for a long period.

This method of agriculture perfectly complemented extensive methods of

cattle-breeding. Moreover, the advantage of this manner of labour-extensive

cattle-breeding was that it required only a small amount of money and so

horses could be produced inexpensively.

A great part of Sumbawa’s natural landscape consists of open forests,

savannah and extensive grass plains. Over and above these areas, much

of the agricultural land on the island is only used temporarily. Together

with the natural vegetation of the island these semi-abandoned agricultural

lands, like ladang lying fallow and rain-dependent sawah lying idle during

the dry season, form excellent pasturelands for livestock.72 The animals

simultaneously fertilise the soil through their droppings which improves

yields in the next farming season.73 As to fauna, there are no large animals

of prey that might threaten the horse population.74 Moreover, the soils are

rich in lime, which is important for equine reproduction.75 All these factors

contributed to making Sumbawa suitable for successful horse-breeding. As

most of the island is unsuited to agricultural activities, livestock-keeping is

a good way to make these lands economically productive as well as being an

ecologically sound adaptation to environmental conditions.76

Still, environmental factors were not all favourable for horse-breeding.

The dry season adversely affected horse-breeding. During this season it was

often very difficult for horses to find food. They had to traverse long dis-

tances just to find drinking water and edible grasses with the consequence

that animals often became emaciated and depleted. Over the lengthy dry

period, green pastures withered to yellow-brown, became scarce to find or

even disappeared. Old, weak and sick animals often did not survive these

kinds of circumstances.77 Sometimes precautionary measures were taken to

prevent too high a mortality. Before the end of the dry season, the alang-alang

(Imperata cylindrica) was set alight to allow new, green and edible grasses to

replace the old and less edible ones.78 Other measures taken at the end of the

nineteenth century (and perhaps earlier) to combat the dry season involved

providing water troughs, supplemental feeding and foliage, and relocating

horses to higher, more wooded areas.79 In Raba (a place in the neighbourhood

of Bima), rice and straw (made from the peanut plant) were sometimes stored

for times of distress. On other occasions, corn was planted in the dry season

specifically to be fed to animals.80 Nevertheless, hundreds of horses died

yearly from lack of food and water according to the veterinarian Ajoebar

stationed on the island.81 Other threats to horses were endemic diseases like


62 Breeds of Empire

glanders, anthrax, hemorrhagic septicaemia (bacterial blood-poisoning) and

surra (trypanosomiases).82 Glanders and anthrax were highly contagious and

caused recurrent and violent epidemics among horses with high mortality

rates before the twentieth century.83 Alternatively, some authors contended

that the horses were hardened by these kinds of difficult circumstances and

that this was the very reason why Sumbawan horses had grown into such

power ful and muscular beasts renowned for their great perseverance.84

It is beyond dispute that the landscape of Sumbawa changed considerably

with the introduction of horses. Since a full-grown horse requires extensive

grazing, the need for pasturelands must have increased enormously. This

expansion can only have been at the expense of woodlands and was com-

pounded by the regular firing of grasslands to provide edible young grass

as fodder. Such fires, once lit, could also get out of hand and burn down

larger wooded areas than were intended. The consequence of these fires

might not even necessarily be seen as calamitous by the local population:

grasslands were appreciated because they attracted deer. Grasslands not

only constituted good pasturelands but were also excellent places for deer-

hunting, a beloved local leisure activity. Moreover, the presence of horses in

fallow ladang fields left young saplings with far less chance to regenerate

and for the forest to recover, eventually leading to a further decrease in

woodlands over time.

Initially over-grazing was not a problem and only occurred when the

number of animals per square kilometre was such that the natural vege-

tation was eaten away faster than it could regenerate, resulting in serious

erosion. Since the population of Sumbawa was low (still only an average

density of 21.4 per square kilometre as late as 1930) and the agricultural

area was limited, there were sufficient grasslands.

In the 1920s and 1930s, Sumbawa owned about 100,000 horses or be-

tween 10–15 per cent of the total population in the Netherlands East Indies,

a high number for a relatively small island.85 Compared to other islands

in the archipelago, Sumbawa was a real ‘livestock-island’. In 1933, it had

601 animals per 1,000 inhabitants, a rate higher than Madura with its 392

animals per 1,000 inhabitants and four times more than the average rate

for the whole colony at 149 animals per 1,000 inhabitants.86 The number of

animals on Sumbawa corresponds to an average livestock density of 12.2

animals per square kilometre, the highest in all the Lesser Sunda Islands.

While Madura had the highest number of livestock in the archipelago (140.5

animals per square kilometre), Sumbawa had the highest horse-density with

six animals per square kilometre.87

All in all the introduction of horses to Sumbawa is an interesting example

of how animals change a natural environment. Although these changes were



considerable, a crisis was avoided. As the density of the population was

low, the carrying capacity of the natural environment was resilient enough

to support the considerable number of horses. By the time population

pressures began to mount on Sumbawa after 1930, the high tide of horse

trading was already over and the horse population had begun to diminish.

Concluding Remarks

Sumbawa has been a major horse-breeding and horse-exporting island since

the sixteenth century and horses have constituted one of the island’s princi-

pal commodities. Horse-breeding as practised on Sumbawa clearly makes

sense from both an ecological and an economic point of view. There was

a suitable natural environment: the island had many natural grass lands,

good limy soils and a lack of large prey animals. Moreover, horse-breeding

could easily be combined with other economic activities like swidden and

(rain-dependent) sawah cultivation. As a result of the relatively small human

population and the ample space available, the method of horse-breeding on

Sumbawa was very labour-extensive.

Thus horse-breeding was suitable for Sumbawa but was Sumbawa suit-

able for horses? Looking from a horse’s perspective, it seems very unlikely

that any horse would ever have chosen Sumbawa as a preferred location.

Horses were hardly looked after and they suffered and often perished as a

consequence of the yearly drought during which food and water were hard

to find. Natural hazards and various diseases like hemorrhagic septicaemia,

surra, glanders and anthrax constantly menaced their lives.

Having horses was a real economic asset for the local population for

centuries; they were indispensable in daily life as beasts of burden and as

a means of transport. Moreover, they fulfilled an important role in war and

hunting activities. Apart from their use-value, horses also had a profitable

exchange-value. They could serve as gifts or were used as goods in barter

and trade. The trade in horses was especially profitable to the higher

echelons of the society: the sultans, the nobility and the Arab merchants.

Finally, and related to this, horses were symbols of pride and status and

fulfilled import ant roles in court life and rituals. During the 1920s and

1930s, with the advent of motorised traffic, the horse almost completely

lost its commercial value. As a consequence, their numbers declined

during the second half of the twentieth century to a current population

of around 50,000. Today, an inter-insular trade continues but on a much

smaller scale than in 1900. Having largely lost their commercial attraction,

the fame of the Sumbawan horse breeds has almost entirely faded away

outside the island.


64 Breeds of Empire

Locally, however, horses are still very much appreciated. To com memor-

ate their glorious past and as a symbol of their still substantial use-value,

statues of horses have been erected in both the regional capitals of Bima and

Sumbawa Besar. Despite the competition of minibuses, horse-carts remain

a very important means of transportation on the island. Therefore, horses

remain a prominent feature of Sumbawa’s present-day landscape, almost as

if nothing had changed since the sixteenth century.


65

Introduction

Along with elephants, naga, and other beasts, horses featured in stories of

the Buddha, and thus also in Siamese art and illustrated manuscripts.1 In the

Tripitaka the Buddhist universal monarch or cakravartin had a horse (along

with an elephant) as one of his seven accoutrements.2 For centuries, these

animals played a role, too, in the warfare of continental Southeast Asia.

During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries horses – and Javanese

horses in particular – became trading commodities much sought after by

the royal court of Siam. Contemporaneous Dutch documents both from

Ayutthaya and in Batavia mentioned the horse-buying expeditions sent

out by various Siamese kings. This chapter is a preliminary study of how

this trade was conducted by the kings’ men, with the sometimes reluctant

cooperation of the Dutch United East India Company (VOC).

During the reign of King Narai (1656–1688), the court of Ayutthaya started

buying horses from Java. During the two years of 1691 and 1692 alone,

horse-buyers of King Phetracha (1688–1703) bought a total of 73 horses from

the interior of Java.3 By 1725, the court of King Thaisa (1709–1733) was still

buying horses from Java, purchasing 53 horses in that year alone.4 The VOC

records contain many such references to Siamese horse-buying expeditions

from the 1680s till at least the 1730s, during the reign of King Borommakot

(1733–1758).5 The question remains, though, why did the Siamese seek to

buy Javanese horses? The ‘noblest’ specimens of horse known to the Asian

courts were after all Persian or Arab (Arabian). In all likelihood it must have

been easier, and presumably cheaper, to buy Javanese horses. It is not clear

what kind of horse is meant by the term ‘Javanese horse’ in the VOC sources.

According to the Portuguese writer Tomé Pires, writing in the early sixteenth

century, Sumatran horses were shipped regularly from Eastern Sumatra to

Western Java, while horses from Java were in turn shipped to the islands of

Bali, Lombok, and Sumbawa.6

Javanese Horses for the

Court of AyutthayaDhiravat na Pombejra

5


66 Breeds of Empire

The Java pony as we know it today has supposedly been ‘decisively

in flu enced’ by the Arabian breed. According to the Encyclopaedie van

Neder landsch-Indië the Javanese horse, in the seventeenth century, was

‘een sterk en deugdzaam paard’ (a strong and virtuous horse) that was

still giving sterling service during the Java War of 1825–1830. By the early

twentieth century (when the Encyclopaedia was published) the breed had

‘de gener ated’, though it was declared that fine specimens could still be

found in Besoeki and Preanger.7 Nowadays the Java pony is used primarily

as a pack or work animal. Breeds similar to the Java pony are to be found

on other Indonesian islands, such as Sumatra, Timor, and Sumba (see

Chapter 4 in this volume). According to a mid-seventeenth century Dutch

source (De Graaff), troops of wild horses could still be seen roaming the

interior of Sumatra.8 As for the Timor pony, it is of a more delicate build

5.1 Ayutthaya and Java

Map 5.1 Ayutthaya and Java.


5. Javanese Horses for the Court of Ayutthaya 67

(and smaller) than the Javanese, while the Sumba is used as a dancing

horse.9

It is not surprising that the Javanese horse has been influenced by the

Arabian and Persian breeds. Commercial and cultural contacts, including

religious influences, had been key elements of the relations between the

Middle East, Muslim India, and island Southeast Asia for centuries. The

horses brought as gifts to local rulers inspired them to search for more.10

The importation of Arabian or Persian horses almost certainly led to cross-

breeding with local ponies.

5.2 Siam

Map 5.2 Siam.


68 Breeds of Empire

The Siamese Context

The area near Ayutthaya, the old capital of Siam, with its annual inun-

dation during the rainy season, was not very suitable for horses. The

riverine, amphibi ous way of life of the Siamese Central Plains meant that

the primary means of transportation was by boat. John Crawfurd, in his

Descriptive Dic tionary of the Indian Islands & Adjacent Countries, claimed

that the Siamese horse, ‘like that of all the countries south-east of India

as far as China, is a pony, not exceeding 13 hands high, and is in general

use only in the uplands, being rarely seen within the tract of inundation.’11

To the Siamese of Ayutthaya, however, the horse had its significance and

usefulness.

The horse, along with the elephant, was highly regarded by the monarch

and the royal court. It is thus not surprising that it should have formed part

of armies and royal processions during the Ayutthaya period. Evidence on

horses before 1600 is scant, but for the seventeenth century, there are west-

ern sources which mention horses in the context of the Siamese king and

his court. It is clear that royal processions involved the use of horses as well

as elephants. The Dutch merchant Joost Schouten refers to the king’s horse

guards forming part of the royal procession by land.12 Schouten’s successor

Jeremias van Vliet, in his Description of Siam, describes the land procession

in even greater detail, saying that the horses and elephants of the king were

‘adorned copiously with gold and precious stones’. He relates further that

the people riding the horses in the royal procession were ‘courtiers and

great men’, meaning the khunnang or Siamese officials.13 This suggests

that the basic skills of horsemanship were probably mandatory for a young

nobleman of the seventeenth century.

According to the French missionary Nicolas Gervaise, when the king

‘goes out in order to display his majesty in the presence of the ambassador

of some ruler to whom he personally wishes to do honour, or in order to

attend the ceremonies of some great festival, the companies of his foot-

guards are supported by troops of cavalry consisting in all of between

twelve and thirteen thousand men’. Another Frenchman, the diplomatic

envoy Simon de La Loubère, refers to the King of Siam’s employment of

‘a foreign standing Horse-guard, which consists in an Hundred and Thirty

Gentlemen’ of Mughal ‘Moors’, plus some additional horse guards of ‘Meens’

(probably Khmers, in Thai khamen) and Laos. The Mughal horse guards

must have been elite troops of the king, probably first employed during the

period of ‘Moor’ ascendancy at King Narai’s court. The king’s horse guards,

in common with other foreign mercenaries, resided outside the Royal Palace

but were called upon to accompany the king when he went out.14



In recounting the 1685 French embassy’s passage through the courtyards

of the Royal Palace in Ayutthaya, the Abbé de Choisy mentions the king’s

horses. The second courtyard at the palace contained ‘a squadron of perhaps

300 horses’. Even to a seventeenth century Frenchman like Choisy, the

horses of the King of Siam seemed ‘rather fine’, though ‘badly trained’.15

A plan of the Royal Palace at Ayutthaya drawn by the German physician

Engelbert Kaempfer shows ‘[a] large place for the running of races’.16 It is not

known whether these races were horse races. A notable example of horse-

racing in Southeast Asia would be that in Aceh.17 The ponds mentioned by

Kaempfer were probably used for washing and bathing the animals.

Were horses used in tournaments, or in ceremonies other than the royal

processions? In late eighteenth century Java, the court of Sultan Mangkubumi

was much taken up with feasts, which included tournaments by horsemen,

along with animal fights.18 Some evidence on Siam is also available: in April

1639, during major festivities at King Prasatthong’s court, horse-riding

was, along with fights involving elephants, part of the entertainment on

offer. The Palatine Law of Siam, dating from the fifteenth century, mentions

playing polo (khli) as one of the kings’ activities.19

Jeremias van Vliet describes the army of King Prasatthong in some detail.

He claims that the king had over three thousand elephants, with 400–500

alone in and around Ayutthaya, each with two to three men attending them

regularly. According to Van Vliet, ‘[t]he army also possesses ponies but no

special horsemen are provided for. The cavalry are armed with old muskets

and leather shields, so that an army provided with modern weapons does not

need to fear an attack of the Siamese cavalry.’20 It is noteworthy that Van Vliet

uses the term ‘ponies’ to describe the horses in the Siamese cavalry. In La

Loubère’s opinion, too, horses were not much used by the Siamese in warfare:

‘As they have no Horses (for what is two thousand Horse at most, which ’tis

reported that the King of Siam keeps?) their Armies consist only in Elephants,

and in Infantry, naked and ill-armed, after the mode of the Country.’21

Not long before the French involvement in Siam, however, a Dutch docu-

ment records that an Ayutthayan expedition sent by King Prasatthong to

subdue Songkhla was 25,000 strong, with 300 elephants and ‘many horses’.22

It would be fair to conclude, however, that elephants were the ‘elite’ cavalry

of the armies of Ayutthaya, while the horses were very much of secondary

importance. The decisive duels between kings and generals were conducted

on elephant-back, after all. Horses were useful in that they were more mobile

than elephants, and certainly faster. Messengers and scouts were those who

could make best use of the horses.

Ibn Muhammad Ibrahim Muhammad Rabi, author of The Ship of Sulaiman ,

the account of the 1685 Persian embassy to Siam, recounts stories about


70 Breeds of Empire

the Siamese attitude to horses. First of all he relates that the members of

that embassy had brought fine quality Arabian- and Indian-bred horses

with them, and it would have been very burdensome to transport them

back to Persia. ‘Of necessity these horses became gifts to the Siamese king’s

estates.’ The Siamese apparently had no interest in these ‘fairy-like beaut-

ies’, and although they knew the real market value of the horses they paid

low prices for them (presumably a prerogative of royal ‘monopolism’). The

Persian source goes on to describe briefly the Siamese way of training their

horses, which was to teach them to lower their heads in deference to their

riders. Also, Siamese cut the manes and tails of their horses because they

considered it bad luck for both rider and horse for the animals to have long

manes and tails.23

The royal chronicles of Ayutthaya, too, would seem to offer plenty of

evidence for the use of horses in traditional Siamese warfare. From the epi-

sodes dealing with the reign of King Naresuan alone, for instance, there are

data which says that horses were used in reconnaissance and news-bearing,

as well as in battle. During a war against the Burmese, King Naresuan advised

his men at Martaban to station 20–30 fast horses so that they might take

turns to take news to the main army. Horses were used in greater numbers

than elephants, even, in the army assembled to invade Cambodia. That force

comprised 100,000 men, 800 elephants, and 1,500 horses.24 The Burmese

armies had horses as well as elephants in their cavalry. A key part of King

Alaungpaya’s armies which invaded Siam in 1760 were the Manipuri horse-

men, who later formed the rearguard as the invasion forces withdrew.25

Siamese sources other than the royal chronicles contain plenty of refer-

ences to horses too. While the chronicles mostly refer to horses in the context of

military campaigns, the Testimony of Khunluang Wat Pradu Songtham testifies

to the existence of stables for the king’s horses on the walled island-city of

Ayutthaya.26 A Dutch document concerning the suc cession dispute of 1703 which

to all intents and purposes was testimony given by a Siamese courtier at the

court of King Sua, recounts how the king and his half-brother Chao Phra Khwan

rode horses to the funeral of their father King Phetracha. Chao Phra Khwan was

encouraged to ride a horse, being given ‘the best horse from the king’s stables’,

and was later lured to his death while riding in the vast grounds of the Royal

Palace. A group of his half-brother’s most trusted courtiers dragged him down

from his mount and ‘executed’ him with sandalwood clubs. The prince’s killing

left the way clear for Phrachao Sua to enjoy his rule as king. The whole episode

shows that Siamese court culture, at by the end of the seventeenth century, had

become to some extent a ‘horse culture’.27

There are old Siamese horse-riding and horse-identification manuals

still extant, though these probably date from the early to mid nineteenth



century rather than the Ayutthaya period proper. But at least in the matter

of the valuation of horses, the standard was exactly the same during the

late Ayutthaya and the early Bangkok periods. The Siamese in olden days

seemed to attach a very great significance to the colour of the horses. The

illustrations in the old manuals clearly differentiate between the colours

of various ‘types’ of horses, rather than on their physical or structural

characteristics. Much importance is also given to the classification, in a

strict order corresponding roughly with social hierarchy, of various kinds

of horses. They do not, however, allude to the provenance of horses. On

the matter of the horses’ colour, the manual states that a horse which has

a white body and a black head was deemed to be fit for a king, along with

a black horse which had a white tail, or all-white and all-black horses. No

explanation for these preferences is given by the manuals. A secondary

class of horse could nevertheless have sterling qualities of endurance and

courage too. Less extraordinary specimens were classified as being of the

third and fourth class.28

The illustrated Siamese manuscripts depicting seventeenth century

royal processions by land and by water, thought to be copies of the Wat

Yom ordin ation hall murals, show few horses. Curiously enough, horses

appear only as part of the water or royal barge procession, twenty horses

progressing on land beside the more illustrious of the barges.29 The em-

phasis of the land procession was on elephants and infantry, and no horses

are depicted, contrary to data in seventeenth century western sources

such as Schouten and Van Vliet. A royal procession at the Phra Phutthabat

(Buddha’s Footprint) shrine in 1737 was said to have included four Persian

horses, and other horses mounted by the king’s retinue. King Borommakot

himself, however, was on elephant-back.30

The Siamese had always used horses for transportation, warfare,31 and

ceremonial purposes, long before the coming of either the Persians or the

Europeans to Siam. But where did Siam’s horses come from, since there

seems to have been no native breed? For the earlier, pre-1600 period, there

has been no detailed research, and it is difficult to know where to find data

for such a study. But for the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the VOC

sources may provide some illumination. The Dutch data come from three

main sets of archival materials. The most informative and detailed sources

are the letters and reports of the VOC merchants stationed in Ayutthaya

and the letters of the phrakhlang minister (in the Overgekomen Brieven en

Papieren series). The Generale Missiven or general letters of the Governors-

General and Council of the Indies, and the Batavias Uitgaand Briefboek or

letters from Batavia to the various VOC offices in Asia, are also very useful

sources in the study of the trade in Javanese horses.


72 Breeds of Empire

Buying Horses for King Narai (1656–1688)

The earliest Dutch sources to mention the buying of horses for the Ayutthaya

court date from the early 1680s, during the reign of King Narai. However, an

earlier source states that in 1651 the VOC Governor-General Carel Reniers

sent ‘two Javanese horses’ as gifts to King Prasatthong’s favourite Okya

Sombatthiban.32 Around 1681–1682 the King of Siam (Narai) sent a vessel

containing a party of horse-buyers to purchase horses in the Cirebon area of

northern Java. According to Chaophraya Phrakhlang (Kosa Lek)’s letter, the

Siamese ship was on its way from Batavia to Cirebon when it was attacked

and burnt by the Javanese. The court therefore asked Batavia to look into

the problem.33 The Siamese must have started to become increasingly wary

of sending their own vessels to buy the horses, because they came to rely

more and more on the Dutch.

The area around the pasisir towns on the ‘East’ or north coast of Java

seems to have been a popular place to buy horses. In 1683–1684, the Sultan

of Jambi asked the VOC for passes to enable his men to go to buy horses

on the East Coast of Java. The sultan wanted 40–50 riding horses for use

in the ‘tournoybaan’. In 1685 the Sultan also purchased some 50 horses,

though this time his men were said to have gone to the island of Bangka

off the Sumatran coast.34 In 1715 the Sultan of Banten was still interested

in buying horses from areas further east on Java. He sent his brother and

uncle to Cirebon, on the East Coast of Java, to buy horses during that year.35

As late as 1726 a ‘Kjahi Astradipana’ from Palembang went to Cirebon to

buy horses.36

It is not mentioned in any contemporary sources why King Narai wanted

to buy Javanese horses. A couple of possible clues may be that the king

employed ‘Moors’ (‘Mughals’ and Persians) as his horse-guard, and that in

the reign of King Phetracha (1688–1703) horses were required for the king’s

‘cuirassiers’. Perhaps King Narai’s horse-guards wanted new horses on a

regular basis, or wanted to improve the quality of the king’s horses through

crossbreeding with superior specimens. According to La Loubère, King Narai

already had ‘a dozen of Persian’, gifts from the King of Persia which by 1687

had already depreciated in value. The Siamese king ‘[o]rdinarily … sends to

buy some Horses at Batavia, where they are all small and very brisk, but as

resty as the Javan people are mutinous.’ When La Loubère stopped by in

Batavia on his way to Siam, he found two Siamese there ‘to buy two hundred

Horses for the King their Master, about a hundred and fifty of which they

had already sent away for Siam.’37

A letter from the phrakhlang minister to the Governor-General and

Council dated Chulasakkarat 1045/6 (1683) asks Batavia to supply the



Siamese court with thirty stallions and thirty mares. The minister explains

that the court did not send people to buy horses in Java anymore, because

it caused the VOC to incur losses. This was possibly a piqued Siamese re-

action to VOC complaints about expenses. But it did not prevent the Okphra

Kosathibodi in 1684 (presumably the acting phrakhlang following the death

of Kosa Lek in 1683) from asking for the Governor-General’s cooperation in

helping a group of the king’s men previously sent to fetch sixty horses from

Java.38 However risky the enterprise was, the Siamese were at this stage

still occasionally sending their own ships to buy and transport the horses,

probably in order to be less reliant on the Dutch.

There had been two junks sent to transport horses from Java to Siam

with the Siamese embassy to Batavia of 1685–1686. A ‘Gravaminas’ or list

of grievances presented to the Governor-General and Council in Batavia

by the Siamese ambassadors shows that sending ships and buyers to Java

to procure horses for the king was something that happened on a regular

basis . But Governor-General Van Goens had earlier written to the phrakhlang

requesting that the Siamese court desist from sending ships to buy horses

in Java: the Siamese were coming into direct competition with the VOC by

selling textiles in Java, and were anyway making losses on their voyages.

Van Goens offered to help King Narai procure whatever horses he wanted

from Java. The Siamese court, therefore, asked that the Company send thirty

stallions and thirty mares to Ayutthaya. According to a VOC general letter

of May 1684, these sixty horses had not been obtainable.39 It was perhaps

very difficult to obtain mares from the parts of Java controlled by the court

of Mataram.

The Siamese court was nothing if not persistent in its pursuit of goods

desired by the king. This perseverance eventually brought about positive

results. There is no record of whether horses were taken back to Siam on the

king’s ships in 1685–1686, but a letter dated December 1686 mentions about

39 horses being sent to Siam per the Walstroom on 23 May of that year. The

VOC ship also took back to Siam the Siamese king’s envoy Okluang Chula,

who had bought these horses while discharging his diplomatic duties in

Batavia.40

The following year the Siamese court and the VOC arrived at an arrange-

ment which was to prove the model for later horse-buying activities. The VOC

authorities in Batavia advanced money to the king’s horse-buyers (probably

the ones La Loubère encountered), and also transported the horses to Siam.

In 1687 the sum of money advanced was 1,609 rials. During that year 67

horses bought by the king’s men were sent on VOC vessels to Siam.41 In this

way the Siamese court obtained the requisite number of Javanese horses,

while at the same time the Dutch did not have to worry about any Siamese


74 Breeds of Empire

competition in bringing textiles to sell in Java. But even at the very end of

King Narai’s reign, the shipping arrangement was still flexible and non-VOC

vessels could also be used to ship the horses to Ayutthaya. In 1688, the final

year of the reign, a VOC general letter mentions that although 24 horses for

the King of Siam had been sent with the VOC vessel Lek, there was also a

Siamese junk which transported 14 horses to Siam.42 The trading interests

of King Narai ranged widely, and ‘Siamese’ ships, whether European, Chi-

nese, or ‘Moor’ vessels, regularly sailed the waters of the Gulf of Siam, the

South China Sea, and the Bay of Bengal.

In the meantime, King Narai was similarly involved in diplomatic contact

with Susuhunan Amangkurat II of Mataram. In 1687 an envoy from the

susuhunan to the court of Siam appeared on the east coast of Java. The VOC

reported that the envoy had with him seven Javanese horses as presents for

the King of Siam. The Javanese embassy to Siam may have been part of a

diplomatic alliance against the VOC, which was becoming a more and more

aggressive economic and military power in Southeast Asia. A little earlier

in that decade, the Dutch had taken over Bantam (Banten) and relations

between the VOC and Siam had been quite tense during the first part of the

1680s.43 It is quite possible that, at this particular juncture, the Siamese and

Javanese courts were using the horse trade as a cover for deeper diplomatic

negotiations. In political and military terms, however, the Javano-Siamese

diplomatic initiative did not seem to lead to anything concrete.

King Phetracha’s Quest for Horses (1688–1703)

After King Narai’s death many contacts with the west ended or took on a

different shape and form. The new Siamese king was, at least in the begin-

ning of his reign, hostile to the French, while relations between the court

of Siam and the English East India Company had deteriorated badly by the

late 1680s. French diplomats and traders ceased to come to Siam (Father

Tachard’s efforts to re-establish diplomatic relations between France and

Siam notwithstanding), while the English East India Company also stayed

away, the only British traders visiting Siam being some country traders

based in India. The Dutch, however, stayed on and concluded a new treaty

with the Siamese court at the end of 1688.44 The trade of the VOC after 1688

was largely concerned with the export of goods such as tin and sapanwood,

and the sale of Indian textiles to the Siamese court, but references to the

Siamese court buying up horses from Java continue to be mentioned in the

sources.

King Phetracha was knowledgeable about matters equestrian, having

been Master or Equerry of the king’s elephants before his accession to the



throne. The Dutch even maintained that the king rode horses more often

than he rode elephants.45 In 1689–1690 the VOC granted passes to two

vessels equipped by the king’s men to buy horses in Java, at the request

of the phrakhlang (Kosa Pan, the former Siamese ambassador to the court

of Louis XIV). However, it appears that only one of these two vessels had

returned to Siam by 1691. The king’s horse-buyers of 1691 were advanced

a sum of 20 catties 4 taels by the VOC to buy the required horses, and this

debt was paid back in Ayutthaya by the king’s treasurers.46

Why did King Phetracha want to obtain good quality horses? The clear-

est answer is expressed in a letter of 1696 from Chaophraya Kosathibodi

(Pan) to the VOC Governor-General in which the Siamese minister explains

that the court wanted horses for the king’s ‘cuirassiers’ (armoured cavalry

troops).47 But the king appears to have wanted high quality horses for his

personal use too (see below).

An earlier letter from the phrakhlang to Batavia gives another inkling of

which kind of horse was wanted most by the Siamese court. In his letter of

1694, the minister specified that the horses must be of full size and height,

be around three-four years old (or at the most seven-eight years old), have

a well-proportioned body, and must be able to learn ‘the Siamese ambling

gait’. The phrakhlang complained in 1694 that thus far almost none of the

horses bought from Java matched the court’s exact requirements. The minis-

ter went on to specify almost case by case the reasons why certain of the

Javanese horses already bought for the court were deficient. Of the thirty

horses sent over to Siam by the king’s horse-buyers recently, only one, a

black-and-white stallion, seemed to accord with the court’s specifications.

Certainly the old Siamese horse manuals confirm that some of the horses

suitable for a monarch had to be white, black, or black-and-white.48

The shipping of the King of Siam’s horses involved not only the Dutch

and the Siamese but a vessel sent in 1692 from Siam to Batavia to obtain

horses was skippered by a Chinese. This may or may not have been the

same Chinese, called ‘Im’, who was mentioned by the phrakhlang in 1695 as

having been involved in King Phetracha’s horse-buying activities in Java.49

The horse-buyers themselves were, however, probably Siamese. At least

their ranks and titles are revealed in some of the VOC documents, especially

in the letters written originally in Siamese by the phrakhlang minister, and

in the letters of the opperhoofd (VOC chief merchant).

In 1691–1692, the two horse-buyers had been Khun ‘Wijtsjatwatti’ and

Mun In Sombat. A few years later, in 1699, a list is given of the whole party

of 17 Siamese travelling on board a VOC vessel, comprising nine ‘caloangers’

(khaluang or courtiers), two servants, five stable boys, with a certain ‘Ebrahim’

as translator. The leading khaluang in the party were Okluang Yokkrabat,


76 Breeds of Empire

Okkhun Thip Chula, who though of okkhun rank was the leader of the horse-

buying expedition, Okkhun ‘Peth-ijntra’, Okkhun ‘Ritsorasin’, and Okkhun

‘Peth Sang haen’. The other four were of okmun rank. These Siamese officials

took with them 50 bahar of tin, 100 piculs of copper, and some Japanese

camphor to sell in Java.50 This suggests that on every trip commodities were

taken to be sold in Java, with the remaining amount of money needed for the

purchase of horses being advanced to the Siamese by the VOC.

King Phetracha sent another well-documented expedition to buy horses

from Java in 1701–1702. The Siamese party, traveling on the VOC vessel

Pampus, was led by Okluang ‘Rha sambat’ (Ratcha Sombat or Raksa Sombat ?)

and Okluang ‘Pijtak tsijn nasaij’, and further consisted of two officials of

khun rank, two mun, and two phan. The Dutch document, a letter written

by the opperhoofd Gideon Tant, identifies the two okluang and two mun as

‘merchants’, each with a servant. The two khun (‘Choen Craij sinthop’ and

‘Choen Assawat tsaij’), assisted by the two phan, were horse-buyers proper.

This shows that the Siamese court was concerned that there should be a

clear division of duties. In Batavia, the merchants would sell the cargo of

Japanese copper, tin, spelter (zinc or pewter), quicksilver, and elephants’

teeth (ivory) which they had brought from Siam.51 As for the horse-buy ers,

they presumably purchased the animals with a combination of money ad-

vanced to them by the Dutch and the money received from the sale of their

cargo. 52

King Phetracha appears to have been very keen to acquire good quality

horses from whichever quarter he could find them. A VOC general letter

of January 1697 reports that he made efforts to buy horses from the Coro-

mandel Coast, China, Manila, and – with the Company’s ships – from Batavia.

The VOC therefore presented to the king Javanese horses as presents, and

later gave him a gift of three Persian horses.53 Persian horses were obviously

highly prized and much appreciated by the Siamese court, but a large and

steady supply was not to be had. In 1697, the Dutch opperhoofd Thomas van

Son wrote to the Governor-General that King Phetracha had sent an Okluang

‘Amanakhan’ (‘khan’ denotes a Muslim, perhaps) and Mun Inthramat to

the Coromandel Coast with a cargo of 22 elephants and 240 bahar of tin,

to be exchanged for horses as well as textiles.54 The horses wanted by the

Siamese in India were most likely these ‘Persian’ horses, probably with

Arabian blood.

In 1694 a Persian mare was sent to the King of Siam, because there

was no Persian stallion to be had in Batavia. Later on the VOC was dis satis-

fied with the valuation by the Siamese court of the Persian horses given

as presents to the king in 1696. The VOC gave the king three large Persian

horses (along with some Javanese horses), but complained that, in return,



the court gave presents which were of lesser value than the price of the

animals and other gifts combined. The king wanted to give 612 guilders

less than the true value of the horses, but at the same time the VOC wanted

to get rid of the horses because they were expensive to feed and care for.

The problem seems to have been that the Persian horses brought to Siam

in 1696 were not good specimens, possibly because they were of the wrong

colour, or were unable to dance and prance ‘in the Siamese fashion’.55

Towards the very end of his reign, in 1702, King Phetracha sent forty

men to Java, bringing presents to the susuhunan of Mataram, Amangkurat

II, then also at the end of his reign. The gifts taken to Java included two

elephants, twenty spears, copper cups, and Chinese inlaid mother-of-pearl

boxes. The members of this expedition travelled on a barque (possibly

Indian or Javanese, the skipper being a certain ‘Sirij rajalela’) and stopped

first at Batavia. The king asked the VOC to lend any necessary help to his

men, including a cash loan of not more than twenty Siamese catties (chang).

It appears that this 40-strong Siamese diplomatic mission to Java was

essentially a horse-buying expedition, but it brought gifts to the ruler of

Mataram because the susuhunan’s help and agreement were necessary to

the procurement of horses for the court. It is not known exactly what fate

befell this expedition, but a VOC letter of August 1703 describes the return

of eleven of the king’s men on a VOC ship belonging to the Company and

on a Batavia burgher’s vessel. Ten of the king’s men remained in Java. It is

not known what happened to the other members of the 1702 embassy; per-

haps they had already gone back to Siam on the ship which had taken them

to Java in the first place. A Dutch letter of January 1704 reveals that the

Governor-General refused to loan the Siamese in Java a sum of 1,000–1,500

rijksdaalders (rixdollars) but there were no immediate complaints from the

Siamese court, presumably because King Phetracha died in 1703. 56

Apart from desiring a large number of horses from Java, the Siamese

court at the end of King Phetracha’s reign also wanted Javanese women

dancers to be brought to Siam from the court of Mataram. The Siamese

asked the VOC to be of assistance in this enterprise, too, but the Governor-

General and Council were not enthusiastic about helping, considering the

Siamese court’s demands to be ‘burdensome’.57 Again there is a dead end as

far as the sources on this matter are concerned, because no further mention

of the dancers seems to have been made in the Dutch documents. Interest-

ingly enough, a French missionary document written by Gabriel Braud, also

dating from the end of this reign, mentions that the old king liked to watch

young girls dancing, and even danced with them. The missionary puts a

sexual slant on the matter, saying that the king preferred to live a life of

the senses with his young dancers, and by implication was neglecting the


78 Breeds of Empire

affairs of state, which were in the hands of his son the Prince of the Front

Palace.58 One may speculate that direct cultural ties between the Siamese

and Javanese courts existed at this juncture, and that horses just as much

as dancers were very much a part of this contact.

The Siamese horse-buyers went to the north coast or pasisir of Java (also

known as the ‘East Coast’ of Java) to buy their merchandise. The ‘beauti-

fully-coloured black-and-white’ stallion bought in 1694, along with the

other 29 horses of that batch, were obtained with the help of knowledgeable

Javanese from Jepara, Semarang, Cirebon, and Kalinjamat. In his letter to

Batavia dated 1694, the phrakhlang wanted the VOC to arrange for men who

knew how to buy horses to help procure them for the king’s men in Java.

No expense was to be spared once the desired kind of horse was found.

The Siamese minister wrote that large troops of horses were apparently

to be found farther inland in ‘Dongdoet’, on the way to Mataram, and in

‘Castiassa’ or ‘old Mataram’ (probably Kartasura). The Siamese court even

sent painted pictures of horses to Java to serve as models but unfortunately

none of these pictures have survived.59

A Steady Supply of Horses for King Thaisa (1709–1733)

The reign of King Thaisa was a period of intense commercial activity for the

Siamese court, especially trade with China or through Chinese inter medi-

aries. It coincided with a period when the private junk trade of the Chinese

in Southeast Asia overall was in a flourishing state. For much of this reign

even the phrakhlang minister was a man of Chinese origins.60

Not that the Siamese horse-buyers stopped going to Batavia and the ‘East

Coast’ of Java during the short reign of King Sua (1703–1709), as there is

evidence that Siamese horse-buyers were given an advance loan at Batavia in

1708. By 1709 they were again ready to send sixty horses to Siam. The VOC,

however, was on bad terms with the court during this period. The Company

withdrew temporarily from Siam in 1705–1706, owing to the lack of ‘free

trade’ in the kingdom, particularly the Ligor (Nakhon Sithammarat) tin trade.

The VOC was consistently disappointed in its Ligor tin trade, even though

the Company had had a tin export monopoly there since the 1670s.61

The Dutch were always careful to keep on good terms with the Siamese

authorities, including important officials or ministers, because the prompt

issuance of trading documents, and indeed the very success of their trade

in Ayutthaya, could depend on the goodwill of these officials. In 1710, Bat-

avia sent two horses to the phrakhlang minister (presumably the Chinese

phrakhlang ), plus a heavy metal clock for use at his ‘newly constructed

pagoda or temple in Ayutthaya’. These two horses, however, were Persian



and not Javanese. The new king (Thaisa) also received a gift of two Persian

horses upon his accession.62 Persian horses were again sent as gifts to King

Thaisa, this time towards the end of his reign, in 1730. But the two ‘Persian’

horses sent to Ayutthaya from Batavia in 1730 were in fact Jaffna horses

from Ceylon (Sri Lanka). During this period the VOC had stables and a stud

farm on Ceylon, breeding horses of the ‘Jaffna’ strain which must have

originated from the Persian horse. In a general letter of November 1730 it

was stated that five stallions and five mares were sought for the Siamese

king and the Japanese shogun.63

Native rulers, European East India Companies and Spanish Governors-

General used fine horses as gifts or presents all through the seventeenth

century and at least a part of the eighteenth century (see Chapter 6 of this

volume). From a cursory look at the VOC Governor-General’s general letters

alone, there is a lot of data on horses as presents. For instance, a general

letter of 8 January 1641 mentions that the ruler of Palembang had sent a

Persian horse to the susuhunan of Mataram, hence the dispatch of a return

embassy from Mataram to Palembang during that past year.64 The Dutch

themselves also gave horses as presents, not only to the Siamese kings

of Ayutthaya but also to other Asian potentates. In 1671, the VOC gave

a Siamese elephant and some Persian horses to the Nawab of Bengal as

presents.65

Problems and complications dogged the King of Siam’s horse-buyers.

The tardiness of a vessel taking them to Java could mean a costly delay, as

happened in 1731–1732 when the VOC ship Berbices could only sail slowly

from Siam to Java. Alternatively, the horse-buyers often arrived too late

to buy any horses, going home empty-handed. Sometimes the horses they

bought in Java died on the journey to Siam, as happened in 1730–1731. The

Javanese horses could apparently only be bought with the permission of the

‘Javanese Emperor’ (the susuhunan of Mataram). The VOC, for instance, was

to make clear in Japan that horses, especially mares, were – on pain of death

– not allowed to be shipped out of Java without express permission from

the Javanese ruler.66 The Javanese, then, valued their breed of horse enough

to try to control the export of mares.

It seems that by the reigns of King Phetracha and King Thaisa the Siamese

horse-buyers had become familiar with the geography of Java, and with the

areas where horses could be bought. They also had become more demand ing.

The phrakhlang’s letter of 1694 to the Governor-General referred to above

mentioned various places in Java where horses could be bought. Sources

from 1716 reveal that Siamese horse-buyers had obtained horses from ‘the

royal residence Cartasoura [Kartasura]’.67 A letter of 1719 from the Governor-

General and Council to Wijbrand Blom (then opperhoofd in Siam) complains


80 Breeds of Empire

that the Siamese horse-buyers were a burden, and brought no advantages

to the Company. The Siamese court protested to Batavia in writing, saying

that the king’s horse-buyers had been unable to buy any horses outside

the northern coastal town of Semarang. The Governor-Gen eral maintained

that the Siamese were at perfect liberty to do so, but in fact were given too

little money with which to buy good horses. Therefore, they ended up with

lower-quality horses. The horse-buyers would then mislead the court about

the true circumstances, in turn causing the phrakhlang minister to make a

complaint to the VOC.68

Conclusion

The total number of horses bought by the Siamese and sent on to Ayutthaya

is difficult to calculate because data on horses bought on Java and horses

sent to Siam appear separately in the various scattered documents. It is

possible that not all horses bought were shipped to Ayutthaya. From a pre-

limin ary count, it appears that around 900 horses were sent to Siam from

Java during the 1686–1735 period, and that at least 598 horses were bought

and sent over to Ayutthaya for use by the court during 1709–1733, the

period corresponding to King Thaisa’s reign alone. For some years, Siamese

horse-buyers went to Batavia and were advanced a loan of cash by the VOC.

During this period, the sums advanced ranged from a minimum of 1,000

rijksdaalders in 1702, to a maximum figure of 2,150 rijksdaalders in 1730,

or an average of about 1,760 rijksdaalders per loan.69

Records of the activities of Siamese horse-buyers in Java dwindle from

the mid-1730s. This does not necessarily mean that the trade in Javanese

horses stopped, but that more research needs to be done. In 1735 Siamese

horse-buyers from the court of King Borommakot, who had travelled on the

VOC vessel Jacoba, were allowed to proceed to the East Coast region of Java,

stopping first at Batavia. This expedition was led by Khun Phichai Sinthop

and Khun ‘Thiep Pha Tjie’. That year the Siamese managed to purchase fifty

horses, and were permitted to ship them home to Siam in two separate

ships. The VOC allowed this in order to please the Siamese court, with which

it had been at loggerheads over the lack of freedom of trade in Ayutthaya.

The Siamese horse-buyers wanted to ship the horses back to Ayutthaya in

separate lots, something to which the Dutch did not always agree. In Decem-

ber 1748, the Dutch Governor-General’s general letter mentioned another

Siamese horse-buying expedition going to Cirebon via Batavia.70

The arrangements to buy and transport Javanese horses worked out by

the Siamese court and the VOC from the 1680s until at least the 1730s

reflect the VOC’s desire to keep the Siamese kings satisfied, in exchange



for trade privileges and a steady supply of Siamese merchandise, some

of which came to the Dutch via the royal warehouses. The Company was

not always happy about the inconvenience of having to advance money to

the king’s horse-buyers and transporting the horses on VOC ships on a

regular basis. The Dutch, however, did not refuse to cooperate with the

Ayutthayan court, because they felt that their commercial interests in Siam

would be served if good relations were maintained with the kings and their

officials. Doing business in a court-centred environment entailed having to

make sacrifices to please that court from time to time. The VOC came to

understand this very well during its long stay in Ayutthaya, and the Dutch

attitude is clearly reflected in their role as facilitators and intermediaries in

the Siamese horse-buying expeditions to Java.


PART TWO


85

The horse is not native to the Philippines but its arrival there forms part of

the large-scale equine migrations of the late fifteenth and early sixteenth

centuries in which the animal colonised the Americas. Its introduction into

the archipelago after 1565 both precedes and forms part of the Spanish

conquest of the islands. The pedigree of the Philippine Horse has its origins

in the South with the introduction of animals into the Sulu Islands brought

from Sumatra, Borneo and Malacca during the mid fifteenth century.1

However, the horse introduced to the northern and central parts of the

Philippines has a much more dispersed ancestry. Here the animal’s history

forms part of the wider Spanish conquest and settlement of the archipelago.

Semi-wild animals were obtained from Mexico and adjacent territories and

brought across the Pacific. Known as creoles or mustangs, these animals

were already the product of cross-breeding and hybridity being des cend-

ants, on the one side, from the Andalusian horse of Southern Spain whose

origins can be traced back to Arab and Moorish mounts and, on the other,

from Norse or Germanic stock with which they were inter-bred to give size

and strength. In addition to the Sulu and Spanish horses, stock from China

and Japan were subsequently introduced and bred on great stock farms

established by the religious orders in the seventeenth and eighteenth cen-

turies.2 Numbers had evidently increased to such an extent by 1689 that

William Dampier was able to report they were plentiful on Luzon and had

gone feral on Mindanao. Half a century later, the horse was even mentioned

in connection with overseas commerce.3 The resultant inter-breeding over

generations blended the animal’s different pedigrees to create the native

Philippine Horse as a distinctive breed. Horses, then, were as much colon -

isers of new lands as the Spaniards whom they accompanied and bore,

and, like their riders, were forced to adapt to the new circumstances and

environments they found themselves in.

Colonising New Lands:

Horses in the PhilippinesGreg Bankoff

6


86 Breeds of Empire

Colonial Life

While the horse has long played a significant role in Hispanic society as

an engine of war and a symbol of nobility, it came to occupy a somewhat

different role in the imagination of the indigenous population.4 Horse owner-

ship, in fact, had become widespread by the nineteenth century with many

peasant families reportedly having more than one mount. At the centre of

the horse’s daily existence was the human–animal relationship that largely

determined the type and quantity of labour expected from it. There were

four main types of activities by the turn of the twentieth century in which

domesticated horses were employed: as draft, pack, saddle and racing

animals. The small size and strength of the animal precluded its use for

heavy haulage and in ploughing; work that was performed instead by

carabaos (Bubalus bubalis) and bullocks. In particular, the horse’s physique

and kinetics rendered it unsuitable for employment in the mud of rice pad-

dies.5 As a means of transport and light haulage, however, it was considered

‘indispensable’: ‘The horse constitutes here an absolute necessity, crafts,

industry, Commerce, the entire population without distinction of class nor

position, are obliged on account of the climate, to avail themselves of this

form of transport even for the most insignificant of social and commercial

relations.’ In fact, it constituted ‘the sole means of rapid [land] transport’ at

that time in the archipelago.6

Horses engaged in a variety of portage functions ranging from drawing

the four-wheeled carriages and chaises used to convey officials and the well-

to-do to pulling the carromatas (long, narrow two-wheeled vehicles often

with a tilt), small horse-carts known as calesas or tartanillas and the carts

(carretones) much in evidence about public markets and used extensively

to carry groceries and like loads (Table 6.1).7 However, their role in this

respect was limited outside of urban areas due to the poor condition of the

roads. Three highways existed on Luzon to link Manila with the provinces:

the Northwest through Pampanga, Pangasinan to the Ilocos provinces; the

Northeast through Nueva Ecija, Nueva Vizcaya to Aparri in Cagayan; and

the Southern through Tayabas, the Camarines to Albay. Even during the dry

season, the sad state of repairs rendered ‘whole sections next to im pass-

able’ and communications were virtually suspended during the wet because

of the mud and lack of bridges. Often travellers were dependent on fragile

bamboo rafts to cross swollen rivers, a hazardous venture at the best of

times. As for byways, ‘it need only be said that they are few and, as a rule,

in wretched condition’.8

Alternatively, horses might be used as simple pack animals. In rural

areas, the larger landowners used carromatas or carts to transport their


6. Conquering New Lands: Horses in the Philippines 87

produce to market during the dry season but poorer farmers used a dragged

platform without wheels known as a cangue or carrosa. The transportation

situation in the Southern Tagalog province of Laguna in 1887 is probably

indicative of the conditions experienced in many rural areas. The lake from

which the province derives its name is surrounded by a series of high

mountains that restrict extensive agriculture to narrow riparian areas where

the majority of towns are also located. Most people were dependent on

the extraction of oil from the cultivation of coconuts. An average family

produced between 10–20 arrobas (from 115 to 230 kilos) of oil a year that

required transportation to market to sell.9 Cartage, therefore, was a primary

consideration and anything that hindered its realisation or increased its

costs impacted seriously upon people’s livelihood and especially their ability

to pay tax. Horses were the chief means of transportation and landowners

6.1 Number of Conveyances Registered in Various Provinces, Philippines, 1889

Table 6.1 Number of Conveyances Registered in Various Provinces,

Philippines, 1889.

Area Carriages Chaises Carromatas Carretones Saddle/Pack

Manila City 637 419 726 263 790

Manila Province

24 29 573 87 998

Zambales 6 24 34 23 468

Tarlac 9 78 1890 1018

La Union 16 33 84 394 470

Camarines Norte

13 16 11 79 163

Cebu 80 428 1033 213

Iloilo 177 342 164 1429 1464

Capiz 41 19 12 22 297

Negros 103 112 182 329 737

Bohol 23 68 43 922

Totals 1129 1490 1864 5592 7540

Horses involved

2258 1490 1864 5592 7540

Sources: ‘Estado del Numero de Carruages, Carros y Caballos, Varias Provincias: Bohol, Camarines Norte, Capiz, Cebu, Iloilo, Intramuros, La Union, Manila, Negros, Tarlac, Zambales’ [The Number of Carriages, Carts and Horses, Various Provinces], PNA, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7, 1889.


88 Breeds of Empire

regularly kept several animals for this purpose. Even poorer families owned

horses, regularly assisting their neighbours by providing animals without

charge when there was need to transport quantities of oil to market. The

animal’s diminutive size, however, precluded it from bearing a load of more

than four to six arrobas (46–69 kilos) on a single journey. If animals were

not shared in this manner, then three or four trips were sometimes required

to transport the 20 or so arrobas to markets that might lie as far as four

6.1 The Philippines

Map 6.1 The Philippines.



leagues away. Apart from cartage, however, horses were seldom used for

other purposes and were apparently let loose on the mountainsides for

much of the rest of the time.10

In more mountainous regions, vehicles of all kinds were scarce and

even saddle horses were used infrequently. A report on carriage ownership

in Abra in 1889 identified only the provincial governor, the judge of first

instance, the parish priest and the state-appointed doctor (médico titular)

as possessing such a vehicle. Nor were there carts of any description as

the precipitous roads of the interior did ‘not permit the use of this form of

locomotion in its main part’ and there were no suitable roads that linked

the province to the outside. Even saddle horses were rare being primarily

used by officials on municipal business to the provincial capital. Few other

people owned one. A similar state of affairs is recorded in Lepanto where

there were no carriages or carts in the district and the few saddle horses all

belonged to officials. But there may have been many more horses than such

reports suggest. Considerable numbers of ‘wild horses’ certainly existed

in highland Igorrot settlements in the interior of Luzon where they were

permitted to ‘run free in their fields without being able to determine their

number’. Similar reports from Mindanao provide confirmatory data on both

the absence of carriages, carts and saddle horses in Davao and of animals

found in pastures cultivated by local infieles (literally pagans) who used

them for travel and hunting.11

Of course, not all horses enjoyed such a seemingly unregulated or care-

free existence. Increasingly the demands of a colonial economy rapidly

being integrated into the world market created new types of requirements

for energy that could often only be met through animal muscle. The pro-

posal, for example, to establish a tramway between Campostela and a coal-

mine located on the slopes of Mt. Licios on Cebu envisaged animals and

not steam providing the locomotive power. Though ultimately mules rather

than horses were recommended, such schemes nevertheless give some

intimation of the new types of activities in which animals were increasingly

employed. The plan called for the construction of a rail-line to transport

coal and other materials in wooden trolleys with a capacity of about one

ton at the rate of some 20 truckloads a day. Animals were required to haul

this weight up 13 kilometres of mainly gentle slope over raised cement-like

embankments built from calcareous stone and clay in the blazing tropical

sun with little or no shade.12 Similar fates awaited horses in the rapidly

growing urban centres. In particular, the population of Manila more than

doubled between 1814 and 1896 rising from 93,000 to over 190,000 in habit-

ants.13 The territorial expansion of urban municipalities, their increase in

population and the greater affluence of their inhabitants all gave rise to a


90 Breeds of Empire

demand for improved transport services. A tramcar system was first initi-

ated in December 1883 with five lines radiating out from a central station

on Plaza San Gabriel (now Plaza Cervantes) each pulled by a single horse. It

was apparently not uncommon to see passengers disembarking to help the

vehicles negotiate a slight rise or a sharp turn. And for the more well-to-do,

there was always a sunset drive along the capital’s Calzada, as much a social

occasion as a scenic turn beside the bay, for which purposes carriages were

hired on a monthly basis.14

A breakdown of statistics from various provinces gives some idea of

the activities in which horses were engaged in 1889 (Table 6.2). While only

indicative of the animal’s employment, the data suggest that 20 per cent

of horses were drawing carriages in comparison to 40 per cent used for

haulage and the same per cent used as saddle or pack animals.15 Many hire-

carriage businesses were established, licensed to convey passengers around

town, while others simply transported goods or baggage. Operating four-

and two-seater carriages, these vehicles plied the streets within and the

roads outside the municipalities from early in the morning to late at night.16

A few of these businesses were quite large ventures such as the operation

owned by Don Leocadio Roque on the Calle Real with seven carriages and

23 horses. Most, however, were more modest affairs involving 12 or fewer

animals . Thus Doña Potenciana Villalon ran a hire-carriage business in Quiapo

with 12 horses and Don Pulalio Acong had five carriages and five pairs of

horses. Some were even quite small concerns, owner-operated or with one

or two employees like that of Don Exequiel Toribio with his three pairs of

horses and carriages and Don Lucio Santos with his two pairs of horses and

carriages.17

Horses in the city were more likely to be housed in purpose-built stables.

A description of one such structure, albeit built under the new US ad minis-

tration in 1905, gives some indication of the accommodation conditions

of horses belonging to the growing class of carriage owners. The structure

was 200 by 20 feet, provided shelter for up to 25 animals and used sawdust

and dried grass as bedding material. But a particular feature of the equine

colonial experience in the new urban areas, especially Manila, was the separ-

6.2 Horses Employed by Activity, Philippines, 1889

Table 6.2 Horses Employed by Activity, Philippines, 1889.

Carriage Horses Haulage Horses Saddle/Pack Total

3748 7452 7540 18740

Sources: ‘Estado del Numero de Carruages, Carros y Caballos, Varias Provincias’, 1889; ‘Supresión del Impuesto Sobre los Caballos, Abra 1889’; Blas Jerez to Director-General de Administración Civil, 1889; and Maximo Loilla to Director-General de Administración Civil, 1889.



ation of the sexes. A passing remark in a report to the Secretary of the

Interior in 1903 makes the observation that ‘nearly all the horses in Manila

are males’.18 Where statistical evidence of an earlier period is available, the

data support such a contention. The province of Manila that can only be

regarded as partly urbanised in 1889 recorded a population of 998 horses

of which 864 were stallions (87 per cent) and only 134 were mares (13 per

cent). Alternatively, the gender breakdown of the adult equine population

in the rural municipality of San Pascual in Burias was much more even:

75 stallions and 67 mares.19 As animal power was increasingly required to

provide the sinews and muscle needed to support the economic expansion

of the late colonial export economy, male horses were brought in from rural

areas in the capacity of ‘guest-workers’.

Racing was the other major activity apart from conveyance or haulage

that involved the horse. Interest in the racetrack was keen with Spaniard and

Filipino alike, the latter in particular observed to ‘risk considerable sums on

races of which they are very fond’. Some ethnic groups were also renowned

for their horsemanship: ‘that however steep may be the ascents they never

alight’. Lieutenant Charles Wilkes, commander of the first U.S. scientific

naval expedition between 1838 and 1842, observed how on Sulu, at least,

riders used saddles cut of solid wood, preferring stirrups so short that

they brought the knees very high.20 By mid-century, the sport had achieved

such a general degree of recognition among both colonised and coloniser

that local race meetings were organised from at least the mid nineteenth

century.21 A Superior Decree of 12 June 1851 provided for public auction

of the right to convene horse races in the province of Pampanga. Meets

were to be held twice monthly on Thursdays so long as no cockfights were

scheduled for that day. No formal racetracks as such existed yet but events

took place at sites close to town to facilitate the maintenance of public

order and alternated between the province’s principal towns of Bacolor, San

Fernando and Mexico.22

The formal origin of racing in the Philippines began with the establish-

ment of the Manila Jockey Club in 1867, the first racing club in Southeast

Asia. Initially races were run for purely recreational purposes without any

betting. Races were held once yearly in April or May with the horses running

on a straight track between San Sebastian and Quiapo churches, a distance

of about a quarter mile. In 1880, the Club moved to a new site in a rice field

abutting the Pasig River at Santa Mesa where meets of three consecutive

days were allowed twice a year in February or early March. A permanent site

was only established in 1900 when the Club leased and then later acquired

16 hectares at its present site at San Lazaro in Santa Cruz. The tremendous

popular enthusiasm with which the introduction of betting in 1903 was


92 Breeds of Empire

greeted led to the establishment of a second racetrack in Pasay (Pasay

Country Club). By 1906, there were no less than 220 racing days a year

but insufficient public demand and the inordinate sums wagered on these

occasions eventually led to the closure of the latter and to re strictions im-

posed on the former. Races were limited to the first Sunday of each month,

legal holidays and the three days before Lent.23 Native horses were much

in demand at these events with some of the original 100 socios fondadores

(founding members) of the Manila Jockey Club breeding stock for com-

petition.24 Winning times on the San Lazaro track between 1904–1910 show

native horses achieving speeds of between 27 and nearly 31 miles per hour

(43 to 50 kilometres per hour) over distances of up to two and a half miles

(four kilometres). Larger mounts that showed promise of developing faster

speeds consequently began to command prices of between P1000 to P2500

by 1911 or between 12 and 17 times their average market value.25 More

than anything else, racing and the status and money that accompanied it

transformed the horse from a useful animal into a valuable commodity.

Colonial Health

The most significant event to affect the horse’s health since its intro duction

in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was the unknown epizootia that

emerged in 1887. Appearing first in the lowlands adjacent to the Pasig

River in Manila and the Rio Grande in Pampanga, the infection rapidly

spread far and wide during the tag-ulan or rainy season. Initially, this

was a refer ence to the great bovine rinderpest epidemic that decimated

up to 90 per cent of carabao herds during the late 1880s.26 Yet there

is a degree of confusion here as the reports clearly indicate that both

cattle and horses were devastated alike. Symptoms, too, in light of later

developments were ambiguous. Animals first appeared dejected, lost

appetite, and exhibited signs of fatigue. Then their bellies swelled, they

developed a cough, dry muzzle, diarrhoea and their respiration became

agitated. In the final stages of the disease, the animals became emaciated,

walked with difficulty and constantly lay down. Those that died of this

disease had ‘truly black blood, sticky, and refusing to coagulate and the

intestines are dark reddish-black colour and marked with lacerations’. The

cause of the disease was thought to be a parasite (‘germ’) that penetrated

the stomach through the ingestion of grasses and plants infected by other

animals’ excreta.27

While horses are not vulnerable to rinderpest, they are to surra or trypano-

somiasis, an infectious fever carried by biting flies (Tabani striati). An animal,

whether healthy or infected, carries several hundred of these insects that



remain with it more or less persistently for a distance of some kilometres. It

is in this manner that the infection spreads. The disease causes emaciation,

heightened respiration, high fever, paresis of the hindquarters that affects

gait, leading ultimately to heart failure and death. Often animals simply fall

to the ground and die of exhaustion. It affects not only horses, when it is

always fatal, but cattle and carabao as well, who generally recover without

treatment within three to four months. First noted in South America in 1842,

the disease spread rapidly throughout the continent and beyond. It reached

Mauritius during the Second South African or Boer War (1899–1902) and broke

out in Java in 1900. It was considered to have first appeared in the Philippines

in 1901 introduced either through infected cattle from the Netherlands East

Indies or carried by race horses imported from India. The disease then spread

6.3 Equine Population Changes, Philippines, 1886–1903

Table 6.3 Equine Population Changes, Philippines, 1886–1903.

Area 1886 1903 Change (%)

Luzon 203,012 108,067 –47

Northern Tagalog1 44,276 7,925 –82

Southern Tagalog2 60,813 49,259 –19

Pampanga 13,403 1,741 –87

Ilocos Region3 26,640 16,755 –37

Northeast4 27,468 10,005 –64

Bicol Region5 21,772 7,595 –65

Mindoro 7,015 2,505 –64

Visayas 24,423 26,782 +10

Cebu 4,634 8,427 +82

Panay6 8,667 3,403 –61

Negros 5,075 6,312 +24

Leyte & Samar 4,949 5,024 +2

Romblon & Bohol 1,098 3,616 +329

Mindanao 1,875 9,322 +497

Total 236,676 144,171 –39

1 Bulacan, Pangasinan, Zambales, Bataan, Tarlac & Nueva Ecija2 Morong, Laguna, Infanta, Cavite, Batangas, Tayabas3 Ilocos Norte & Sur, Union, Benguet4 Nueva Vizcaya, Cagayan, Isabela & Saltan5 Camarines Norte & Sur, Albay, Sorsogon, Catanduanes6 Antique, Capiz & Iloilo

Source: Montero y Vidal, El Archipiélago Filipino, 1886, pp. 155–156, 329, 342, 361, 437; and Census of the Philippine Islands, 1918, Manila: Bureau of Printing, vol. 3, 1921, pp. 442, 734–735.


94 Breeds of Empire

rapidly where its prevalence was reported ‘from almost the entire group of

islands’ by 1903.28

However, it is possible that surra was already present in the archipelago

prior to the twentieth century given the historical trade links between the

Philippines and Spanish America, and that it was partly responsible for

the earlier epidemic that affected horses in the 1880s. Such a claim was

investigated and subsequently dismissed at the time as ‘not of great import-

ance one way or the other, except for its historic interest’. Whatever is the

aetiology of surra and whether it had been present in the archipelago prior

to 1900 or not, ‘the frightful epidemic which has raged here is positively

connected with this infection’.29 The effect on the equine population was

devastating: a comparison of horse numbers between 1886 and 1918 sug-

gests the extent of mortality, especially among herds in the main centres of

equine breeding on Luzon. The actual number of fatalities in some areas,

however, was much greater than shown by the overall picture. A comparison

of equine populations between 1886 and 1903 reveals the extent to which

horses were affected in certain provinces and provides a tantalising snap-

shot of the extent of the epidemic as of 1903 (Table 6.3). Corroborating the

account provided by the 1888 report that the epidemic had its origins in the

areas adjacent to the Pasig and Rio Grande rivers, herds in Pampanga and

the northern Tagalog region were reduced by over 80 per cent while those

in the northeast, southern Luzon and on Mindoro lost over 60 per cent of

their numbers.

In all, herds were initially reduced by nearly 50 per cent on Luzon and

the disease may ultimately have been responsible for the loss of as much as

80 per cent of all animals by 1908.30 The situation was less uniform in the

Visayas where total horse numbers actually increased. The only exception

was on the island of Panay where mortality levels reached rates comparative

to those on Luzon suggesting that the epidemic had as yet only reached that

far south. The statistics for Mindanao more probably reflect the greater re-

liabil ity of the data since the effective incorporation of that island under the

new American colonial administration. Still the figures are in line with the

notion that the epidemic had not yet seriously affected equine demographic

density there. It was not until 1918 that equine populations began to recover

their pre-epidemic proportions (Figure 6.1). Even then, numbers did not

exceed their 1886 densities except in the southern Tagalog provinces, the

predominant breeding region in the archipelago. In fact, herds continued

to decline in Kabikolan and on Mindoro. All these statistics, however, only

record numbers for domesticated horses, those in a sense living within the

bounds of the colonial administration. The really unknown factor is the size

of the feral horse population.



Some intimation of the size of this other equine population is hinted at

in later U.S. statistics on horses possessed by non-Christian tribes-people.

There were 12,410 such mounts enumerated throughout the archipelago

in 1903, a figure that had risen to 20,564 by 1918, an increase of over 65 per

cent.31 Even these animals should not be regarded as truly feral but more

indicative of how horses had been incorporated into cultures that lay beyond

the reach of the Spanish administration much as in the case of the Apache in

New Galicia or the Mapuche in Chile. True estimates of equine populations

lie largely beyond the horizon of historical sources and of histori ography.

However, the great surra epidemic was an occurrence of major significance

in the historical evolution of the horse in the Philippines quite independently

of its relationship to humans though the dramatic decline in numbers was

a major, if still largely unrecognised, influence in shaping the course of the

Philippine American War (1899–1902).32

Colonial Death

Like the human ‘invaders’, the horse also had to adjust to alterations in its

environment, both physical and constructed. Natural hazards are fea tures of

daily existence in the archipelago: earthquakes, volcanic erup tions, ty phoons,

floods, droughts, landslides, tsunamis and the like occur regularly.33 Floods, in

particular, have historically been the source of much privation and suffering

in the Philippines. While local accounts describe disasters that overtake

human communities, they also occasionally refer to how other species

fared during such events. Thus floods in 1839 and 1845 were described

as ‘so intense that many domestic and field animals were carried away by

the waters of the river’. The typhoon that hit north-western Luzon on 25–27

September 1867 caused such a ‘great flood’ that more than 6,500 animals

drowned in the rushing waters of the Abra River. The exten sive flood of the

Bicol River in October 1872 left the plain of Naga ‘a sodden mass beneath a

tideless sea,’ where corpses, carcasses, carabaos, sewage and filth floated on

the surface ‘rotting in the sun, spreading pestilence in every direction’. One

rare mention provides more detailed information on the flood that inundated

large portions of central and northern Luzon in Octo ber 1871 and drowned

1,342 cattle, 761 carabao and numberless hogs as well as 842 horses in Ilocos

Norte alone.34 This carnage is equivalent to the total annual equine mortality

for this area where statistics are avail able.35

Dangers, however, were also to be encountered in the rapidly expanding

urban environment. The greater number of wheeled vehicles and the larger

concentration of animals and people in confined and narrow thoroughfares

inevitably led to increased collisions. Road accidents caused 22 human fatal-


96 Breeds of Empire

ities in Manila during 1886, 21 of which occurred in the congested urban

space of Intramuros. The walled city alone had 131 carriages, 56 chaises, 26

carromatas, 22 carts as well as 36 saddle mounts.36 The number of animals

involved in these crashes can only be surmised but horses were evidently

sufficiently injured or maimed by such incidents to warrant their sale and

early retirement from ‘active life’.37 Other animals or the conveyances they

drew were abandoned or strayed, confronting municipal authorities with

the problem of ‘ownerless horses’. Thus police impounded an unattended

cart on a public highway in Manila in May 1878 until surety and a fine were

paid. Stray horses regularly wandered the byways especially in the suburbs

and villages around Manila. On 5 June 1884, an animal was apprehended

‘destroying the pasture’ in fields belonging to Malacañang Palace, the seat

of the Governor-General. Mainly, however, they were just found loose in the

streets without anyone knowing to whom they belonged like the chestnut

horse taken to the Casa Tribunal of Sampaloc. The usual procedure on

these occasions was for an advertisement to be placed in the Gaceta de

Manila describing the animal and calling on the owner to reclaim his or her

steed. Those able to prove ownership were fined about two pesos before

the animal was released to them. If unclaimed, horses were sold by public

auction and often at bargain prices: Don Ramon Borras paid a mere P1.25

for the wayward animal that had browsed the gubernatorial pasturage. For

those not so fortunate to be detained by the police, a worse fate could await.

The Guardia Civil Veterana, the capital’s police force, arrested three men

late one night in April 1896 clandestinely dismembering a horse they had

6.1 Variations in Equine Population on Luzon, 1886–1918

0

10000

20000

30000

40000

50000

60000

70000

Pop

ula

tion

NorthernTagalog

SouthernTagalog

Pampanga Ilocos Region Northeast Bicol Region Mindoro

Provinces

1886 1903 1918

Figure 6.1 Variations in Equine Population on Luzon, 1886–1918.



bought earlier that day in Manila without the requisite ownership papers.

Men, meat and hide were later placed at the disposition of the Capitan

Municipal of Parañaque.38

In more rural areas, theft was also a factor of life though carabaos were

the preferred target more than horses. Thus Policarpio Rodillo, arrested

by the Guardia Civil in 1891 and charged with the theft of 11 carabaos

in Laguna, had previously been apprehended for stealing a horse.39 Stolen

animals were seldom recovered: beasts were peddled from door to door,

taken to a neighbouring province, driven to market or slaughtered and

disposed of locally as fresh and salted meat. Filipinos sometimes ate horse-

flesh, usually dried (tapa).40 The main onus of prevention inevitably fell on

municipal authorities that were directed to rigorously enforce regulations

regarding transfers of animal ownership as specified by the royal cedula of

16 November 1785. Buying horses or carabao without the knowledge and

countersignature of the local gobernadorcillo (mayor) was strictly forbid-

den. Bills of sale required the vendor’s name, date of sale and details of any

identifying brands or characteristic markings. A copy of these bills was to

be kept in a special town register and periodic reports sent to Manila. A late

nineteenth century visitor, Alfred Marche, while observing how all farmers

were required to carry a certificate of ownership for any accompanying

livestock, wryly noted how ‘thieves do not lack accomplices, which permit

them to elude the order’.41

At the end of the road for horses lay deteriorating health, illness and

ultimately death. The source of much common injury was incurred through

service to their human masters. Sores to the top of the animal’s neck, under

the collar or breast strap, or on the back were mainly caused by harness and

saddle and proved difficult to heal. Feet were particularly vulnerable to the

hard surface of most country roads unless properly shod and maintained.

Shoes were recommended to be replaced at least once a month as a growing

hoof could throw the foot out of its proper axis and damage knee and fet-

lock. Even the ‘very common practice’ of washing animals removed natural

oils from the skin leaving it scaly and the hair dry, dusty and rough.42 Quite

apart from the surra epidemic, other diseases also proved fatal. Glanders, a

form of equine pneumonia, always resulted in death while anthrax, known

colloquially as garrotillo or carbunco sintomático regularly took a heavy toll

among horses within Manila. Animals passing through a big horse-market

or transported any distance by ship usually came down with distemper,

a type of influenza also known as strangles, shipping fever or stockyards

fever. In mild cases, horses regained their vigour within a few days but

sometimes complications might set in such as metastatic pneumonia or

enteritis and result in death.43


98 Breeds of Empire

Quite apart from these infectious diseases, there was also a host of

non-communicable ones that constituted daily perils. Among many such

conditions were heat-prostration or hyperpyrexia, common among animals

in the capital especially during humid weather; laminitis or acute lameness

frequently caused by hard road surfaces; fly-blow, the most troublesome

of everyday conditions as wounds became infected by the larvae of a large

blue-coloured fly (Musca vomitorum); and digestive disturbances or colic

caused by indiscrete feeding or watering. Nor was poor health always the

result of natural causes; animals were ill treated at times and strangulated,

suffocated and submerged in water at others. A specific cost was even set

for the examination of animals suspected of having been poisoned, with

differ en tial rates for those that demanded a more detailed chemical analysis

and for those that involved only a simple autopsy.44

The health of horses had traditionally been entrusted to the care of the

blacksmith. This person was typically a Filipino who combined the physical

expertise of the farrier with the medical skills of local lore and belonged

to that world of indigenous knowledge that lies largely below the horizon

of modern historiography. The existence of this class of people is only

occasion ally hinted at in the records. ‘In the Philippines, until now,’ writes

Felipe Jovantes justifying his continual preference for employing a local

blacksmith to a professionally trained veterinary, ‘it has been the custom

of this country for there to be folk doctors (medicillos), unlicensed builders

(maestrillos de obras), Chinese apothecaries, native herbalists and the like

and no one interferes with them.’ These native practitioners were skilful if

the level of demand for their services is some measure of their worth, con-

veni ent in that they made house visits to their patients, and cheap, charging

only modest fees in comparison to the professionally trained veterinarians.

Among the treatments administered were bloodletting, the application of

leeches and the use of acupuncture.45 The ‘professionalisation’ of know-

ledge during the later nineteenth century, however, and the emergence of

veterinary science as a specialisation replete with its own certified qualifi-

cations, specialist standards and fee structures had its counterpart in the

colonial setting where native blacksmiths were progressively forbidden to

practice this trade, prosecuted if they did, fined and even imprisoned. Care

of the animal came a poor second to questions of inter-human competition

despite the establishment of a health inspectorate known as the policia

sanitaria charged with maintaining the welfare of livestock under the Royal

Order of 13 April 1849.

Faced with the twin devastation wrought by surra among the equine

population and the continuing rinderpest epidemic raging among carabao

herds, the new US administration moved rapidly to establish a more com-



prehen sive institutional and legal structure with which to tackle animal

diseases. A veterinary division was inaugurated on 1 April 1904 consisting

of nine veterinarians and 20 inoculators charged among other duties with

inspecting animals entering the country. In its first year of operation, some

3,764 horses were inspected, 207 of which were subsequently condemned

and cremated: 42 for surra and 165 for glanders. On 12 October 1907, the

Philippine Commission enacted a quarantine law (Act No. 1760) making it

an offence punishable by a fine of P1000 and/or six months imprisonment

to knowingly import infected animals into the country or transfer them

internally between locations. The law was bitterly opposed by cattle dealers

who claimed its enforcement prevented buyers from acquiring the animals

they needed for work or slaughter.46 Permanent quarantine stations were

located in Manila, Pandacan, Iloilo and Cebu. The creation of a College of

Veterinary Science at the University of the Philippines in June 1908 and

the provision of a board of examiners to supervise licenses completed the

formal structure. An animal clinic was established in 1912 at a site between

6.4 Causes of Mortality Among Equine Populations by Region, Philippines, 1918

Table 6.4 Causes of Mortality Among Equine Populations by Region,

Philippines, 1918.

Deathrate (%)

Cause of Death (%)

Area Popu lation Deaths DiseaseSlaugh-tered

Other

Luzon 173,404 9,708 5.6 59 27 14

Manila 6,530 109 1.7 77 11 12

Northern Tagalog 24,917 1,905 7.6 49 39 12

Southern Tagalog 69,559 2,409 3.5 60 25 15

Pampanga 7,488 511 6.8 61 31 8

Ilocos Region 21,375 702 3.3 48 31 21

Northeast 19,762 2,075 10.5 59 26 15

Bicol Region 3,428 920 2.7 64 14 22

Mindoro 3,134 496 15.8 72 24 4

Visayas 39,296 3,485 8.9 52 42 6

Cebu 14,560 496 3.4 50 38 12

Panay 2,933 263 9 81 13 6

Negros 8,398 588 7 77 17 6

Leyte & Samar 7,191 1,890 26.3 41 56 3

Romblon & Bohol 6,214 248 4 49 38 13

Mindanao 14,036 1,814 12.9 77 13 10

Total 226,736 15,007 6.6 59 29 12

Source: Census of the Philippine Islands 1918, vol. 3, 1920, pp. 520–521.


100 Breeds of Empire

Rizal Avenue and Calle Tayuman where consultation and treatment was

dispensed free of charge. In its first seven months of operation, 457 animals

were treated, the majority of whom were horses belonging to public-rig

operators and the proprietors of livery stables.47

For the horse, the very end of a long road that could last 20 years or

more came with death. The annual mortality rate for horses was between

six and seven per cent of the entire population in 1918 though the regional

variations were large (Table 6.4). In some provinces such as Leyte and

Samar the percentage was nearly four times higher, while it was only about

a quarter of that rate in places like Manila. Disease accounted for nearly 60

per cent of all deaths (8,880 fatalities), though again the rate fluctuated to

over 80 per cent in some areas. However, not all deaths were the result of

natural causes; nearly 30 per cent or 4,380 animals met their fates at the

edge of the knife.48 Old and unfit horses were often slaughtered and their

flesh consumed. Licenses to maintain abattoirs in every town were sold by

public auction and contractors specifically obliged to equip these places

with good ventilation and adequate conduits for the removal of malodorous

smells and the evacuation of waste liquids. Livestock was not permitted to

be slaughtered anywhere else though owners were allowed to kill their own

stock for home consumption so long as they paid the requisite tariff to the

license-holder. Diseased animals were to be burnt along with their last place

of confinement or buried at least one metre deep on beaches, sandy areas

or other places not used for cultivation. On no account were their bodies to

be thrown into rivers or estuaries.49

Colonial Legacy

Animals, however, are more than simply passive recipients of external stim-

uli and are also very much active participants in the process of histor ical

construction, especially as agents of environmental transformation. It is

difficult to assess to what extent the introduction of the horse affected the

landscape, especially the flora of the Philippines. Human agency may have

been the initial cause whereby the animal was brought to the archipelago but

the degree to which it continued to be a factor of primary importance is hard

to determine. Pastoralism, the human-directed management of breeding,

was certainly a significant factor in localised areas and regional variations

had already emerged by the nineteenth century. Horses from Batangas and

Pangasinan were considered to be the best animals but those in the Bicol

region were ‘more delicate, although better adapted to racing’. They were

‘small but strong’ in Ilocos and rather wild in Jolo and Mindanao.50 Though

the horse spread to all parts of the archipelago, population densities varied



considerably with enormous disparities between regions by 1886. Animal

numbers were disproportionately concentrated on Luzon and the islands

in its immediate vicinity (63 horses per 1,000 persons) in comparison to

the Visayas (12 per 1,000) and Mindanao (10 per 1,000).51 Southern central

Luzon and the North became centres of horse breeding, most especially the

province of Batangas, which alone accounted for between 11–14 per cent of

all domesticated animals.52 Other important horse-breeding areas included

Cagayan, Ilocos Norte and Bulacan. As a general rule, there were fewer horses

per person the greater the distance from Manila and/or the smaller the island.

The only principal exception appears to have been the island of Mindoro with

a horse population of 7,015 (1886) and a human one of 58,178 (1877 Census)

that had a proportion of eight persons to every animal. In contrast, small

islands such as Gunung Api off Sumbawa in the Netherlands East Indies (NEI)

were commonly used for raising horses.53 By 1886, there were an estimated

236,676 horses in the Philippines (an aver age one horse per 23 persons)

compared to 1,079,699 carabaos (one per 5 persons), 555,016 beef cattle (one

per 10 persons), 375,415 pigs (one per 15 persons), 15,547 goats (one per

375 persons) and 3,190 sheep (one per 1,740 persons).54

While reasonable statistics exist on the number of domesticated horses,

the size of the feral population in the interior and its effect as an agent

of environmental transformation is less clear. Bernice de Jong Boers notes

the impact of large numbers of horses on the environment of Sumbawa in

the Indonesian archipelago where equine densities reached six animals per

square kilometre by 1930.55 A working horse was thought to require over

one kilo of food per day for each 50 kilos of weight.56 About one half to

two-thirds of this amount was given in grain and the balance in hay or grass.

An adult horse, therefore, consumes as much as 60 kilos of grass a day,

considerably affecting a landscape and contributing to deforestation.57 The

extent to which the introduction of the horse affected the landscape in the

Philippines, especially localised ecosystems in those provinces of central

Luzon where their populations were such as to make appreciable impact on

the local fauna, has yet to be studied. They were, however, very much inte-

grated into the agricultural cycle. In Catanduanes, for instance, horses were

6.5 Domesticated Equine Population Densities per Square Kilometre, Philippines, 1886

Table 6.5 Domesticated Equine Population Densities per Square Kilometre,

Philippines, 1886.

Luzon Visayas Mindanao Philippines

Horses per sq. km 2 0.60 0.03 1.16

Source: Montero y Vidal, El Archipiélago Filipino, 1886, pp. 155–156, 329, 342, 361, 437.



moved to upland communal pastures at the beginning of the rice-planting

season where large areas of cogon grass were to be found, such as in the

districts of Pandan, Viga and Baras. Once the harvest was in, horses were

turned loose in the rice fields, now also regarded as communal pastures.58

By the late nineteenth century, domesticated horse densities reached two

animals per square kilometre for the whole of Luzon and over one for the

Philippines as a whole (Table 6.5). Moreover, these figures do not include

the unknown numbers of feral horses in the interior of islands.

Yet there are some indications of the possible changes that the animal

wrought as an agent of environmental change. The absence of natural pastur-

age, the lack of extensive grasslands, necessitated that horses be fed on

a diet that mainly consisted of a mixture of unhusked rice (palay) and

maize though historically ‘green provender’ or camelote, a maize-like plant

growing to a height of over two metres, was often substituted and, later still,

oats when available under the US administration.59 This nutritional regime,

however, was considered insufficient to maintain improved bloodlines and

even to adversely affect their progeny, who would lose the desired qual-

ities of size and strength if raised only on ‘the food regime of the country’.

Instead, new ‘artificial pastures’ were required ‘to procure more abundant

and succulent food-stuffs than we possess now’.60 As a first step, it was

recommended that the seeds of more nutritious forage plants should be

acclimatised so that the horses introduced from overseas could enjoy the

‘same sustaining diet as previously’ and so more readily ‘counteract the

effects consequent upon a change in climate’. In its 1883 submission, the

special military commission even recommended the immediate intro duction

of barley, oats, alfalfa, sainfoin and piprigallo (both types of lucerne),

carrots , and, above all, of paraná and guinea grasses which had given such

excellent results in Cuba. It was also thought inappropriate to leave the

success of this acclimatisation to the ‘greater or lesser intelligence and

interest of farmers’; rather cultivation of the plants should be entrusted to

the expertise of agricultural engineers placed in charge of newly established

state run model farms.61 However, little advance was made in the creation

of artificial pastures before the establishment of agricultural experimental

stations under the U.S. administration in the early twentieth century.

Even less is known about the possible impact of the feral herds that

Dampier witnessed or about the local practice of letting animals loose on the

mountainsides when not required for light haulage or other purposes. The

observation, however, that there ‘comes a time each year when what passes

as fields are exhausted and droves of hungry and gaunt looking mares go

in search of food that they are unable to find’ suggests a landscape, at least

on a localised level, stripped of its undergrowth and denuded of foliage.62



In some parts of the Philippines, perhaps, animal and environment were

bound in a similar relationship to that described by Melville for the Valle de

Mesquital.63 While the extent of this connection cannot be fully determined

due to the lack of all but anecdotal quantification of feral numbers, the proper

development of colts and the health of mothers were observed to suffer from

such a degraded environment. In particular, colts, badly fed in their first year

of life, were said to be enfeebled and especially susceptible to disease and

mortality. Similar circumstances were to be found in other horse-breeding

areas of Southeast Asia where the hot and humid conditions were blamed for

low fertility rates and high mortality especially among foals.64

Like the Spaniards, then, the equine ‘invaders’ of the Philippines were

the agents of considerable and long-lasting changes that substantially affect-

ed both the way of life of the archipelago’s peoples as well as the landscape

and ecosystem of the islands. In this, the history of the Philippine Horse like

its counterpart in Java and Sumbawa is intimately linked to state formation

and the colonial transfer of stock from within and without the geopolitical

region. Yet, while it is necessary to appreciate the extent to which the animal

was a significant agent of historical transformation in its own right and how

its life was increasingly altered by its close association and integration into

human societies, it is also important to realise that the horse itself did not

remain unchanged by these processes but adapted over time to the different

circumstances and environments it encountered in the archipelago.


105

The horse was a newcomer to the Philippines, an interloper; more of an

invader, in fact, than the Spanish who were principally responsible for its

introduction and instrumental in its distribution.1 After all, Spaniards were

only a culturally distinctive type of humanoid and people had long been

living in the islands. Horses, however, were a different matter, an altogether

new species. Once established in the archipelago, though, sufficient inter-

breeding over generations blended the animal’s different pedigrees to create

what came to be considered as the native Philippine Horse as a distinctive

breed by at least the eighteenth century. In general, the horse’s appearance

is clean-limbed and rather upstanding with a broad head, straight face and

small, fine ears, though those in the south were less affected by the sub-

sequent importation of other breeds in comparison to those in the north

and retained more of their distinguishing characteristics.2 A particular

feature of the breed is the manner in which the neck joins the body creat -

ing a comparatively straight line over the withers that tends to give the

neck a longer appearance and causes the back to appear short. The latter

is usually straight and narrow with a short croup and the tail set low. The

feet are large, well-open at the heel, the knees are muscular, with well-laid

shoulders though often the animal’s hindquarters and withers are set back.3

A particularly noticeable adaptation of the horse to its new environment,

however, was its attenuation.

A Question of Size

Seventeenth century Spanish accounts compared the imported stock to

‘draft-animals’ and commended them for their ‘well-shaped bodies, large

fetlocks, large legs and front hoofs’ and depicted the resultant crossbreeds

with Chinese and Japanese stock as medium sized, strong, vigorous, and

proven hard workers.4 But as the number of horses increased, so the size of

Adapting to a New Environ-

ment: The Philippine HorseGreg Bankoff

7



the animal apparently decreased.5 Forty years later, an anonymous observer

described the local breed as both ‘numerous’ and ‘small’, and its diminutive-

ness became the dominant characteristic noted by most subsequent Span-

ish and other European commentators.6 As such, the native horse of the

Philippines did not differ appreciably from other breeds around maritime

or mainland Southeast Asia.7 Similar descriptions are given of horses on the

important breeding island of Sumbawa where the harshness of the local

environment was both blamed for its diminutive stature and credited with

its reputation for stamina and endurance.8

The increasingly diminutive size of the Philippine Horse was frequently

commented upon by visitors and progressively regarded as a source of con-

cern by colonial officials. ‘The small size and inferior development of this

country’s horse’, noted a report in 1881, ‘is a cause of very great surprise to

all who visit this territory for the first time.’9 Cavalry Brigadier Sanchez Mira,

while equally surprised, was more direct, calling the animal ‘small and mis-

shapen’.10 While a few praised the animal’s strength and endurance for its

height, most were far less charitable, criticising its poorly developed chest,

the shortness of its stride and its lack of stamina that necessitated draught

and coach horses to ‘require long and repeated rests to cover relatively short

distances’.11 Sanchez Mira was more censorious still: ‘Equine livestock has

degenerated to such an extreme in this Archipelago that it effectively now

serves for nothing’. In particular, there were no horses capable of bearing

heavy burdens (tiro pesado) and even very few saddle horses (de silla) and,

as for riding the local horse, even ‘if one is a horseman of regular height, it

is impossible to mount one without looking ridiculous’. The question was

7.1 Comparison of Equine Height to Numbers, Philippines, 1935

10000

20000

30000

40000

50000

60000

70000

80000

90000

100000

Numbers 485 2424 4848 27147 31994 77078 88227 62050 31024 10180 5817 4363 4363

44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56Inches

Figure 7.1 Comparison of Equine Height to Numbers, Philippines, 1935. Source:

Nemesio Catalan, ‘The Animal Problem of the Future Philippine Army’, Philippine

Journal of Animal Industry, vol. 2, no. 1, 1935, p. 70.


7. Adapting to a New Environment: The Philippine Horse 107

more serious with regard to the military. Local horses were not able to bear

the weight of a rider and his equipment and it was estimated that only ten

per cent of the cavalry would pass muster on inspection.12

Spanish measured horses in cuartas, the distance between a hand’s out-

stretched thumb and little finger regularised as a length of 21 centimetres

[8.3 inches]. By the late nineteenth century, an animal of between six and

seven cuartas (1.26–1.47 metres or approximately 12.5 to 14.5 hands) was

considered of ‘great height’ but there were few animals of this size and the

majority were below six.13 What this meant in terms of the horse popu lation

is suggested by a survey carried out in 1935 under the supervision of the US

Animal Husbandry Department (Figure 7.1).14 Measurements taken cor robor-

ate the earlier Spanish observations and confirm that the vast majority of

the stock was small: 55.4 per cent under 50 inches (1.16 metres) and 96.6

per cent under 54 inches (1.25 metres).15 An animal below this latter height

was considered unsuitable for military purposes.16 Certainly, the Spanish

considered that the diminished size and strength of the horse was re spon-

sible for its limited usefulness, given the broken landscape, marshy nature

of much of the lowlands and the total absence of roads in the greater part

of the islands.17 The subsequent American regime was to make the same

disparaging remarks about the size of the local horse in 1900 as had been

made a decade or more before, concluding that ‘little care had been exer-

cised in breeding them, and they might doubtless be greatly improved’.18

Human endeavour may have been responsible for introducing the horse

to the islands but the resultant Philippine Horse was as much a ‘mix’ of

different equine genes as it was a product of the environmental conditions

it encountered. Attenuation was a very necessary physical adjustment to

the sparse nutritional environment the animal found in the archipelago with

its lack of natural pasturage for large animals. Reduction in size is not an

uncommon occurrence for living forms faced with similar situations.19 As

a result of this loss of size, however, its utility for certain human activities

also diminished. An important distinction, however, must be made between

the needs of the colonisers and the colonised. For Spanish and American

authorities, its diminished muscular abilities was a matter of considerable

governmental anxiety but its relative size in relation to its usage by the

indigenous population is more difficult to assess.20 Regardless of this import-

ant distinction, however, the result was a determined effort on behalf of

the state to reverse this natural process through policies that involved both

the introduction of larger breeding stock from overseas and the wholesale

emasculation of native stallions in an attempt to restrict their capacity to

reproduce.21 As the Philippine Horse adapted to its environment, it was

itself subjected to change as a consequence of that adaptation.



Searching for New Blood 1881–1888

Size was to prove the most important factor in shaping colonial authorities’

attitudes towards local horses. Official concern at the attenuation of the

native breed had grown to such an extent that the governor-general con-

vened a special subcommittee in 1883 composed of officers from the various

branches of the military with vested interests in the animal to examine the

reasons for its diminution and to recommend steps for its improvement.22

‘The improvement of the breed of Horses in the Islands is no insignificant or

trifling affair, nor is it a caprice just to waste money and put new burdens

on the treasury; no, it is a justified necessity’ wrote Brigadier Sanchez Mira

once again, adding that it was ‘indispensable’ that the State woke up from

its ‘unproductive lethargy’.23 There was general agreement that the animal’s

size had diminished over the centuries and it was the colonial government’s

attempts to reverse this process that gave rise to the decision to import for-

eign bloodstock from British India in the 1880s. The new US administration

proposed similar measures to improve the native horse as early as 1902

and established a breeding station on Cullion Island, Palawan, stocked with

American and Australian stallions and brood-mares.24

It had long been a widely held conviction in Spain that the native breed of

horse there exhibited all the qualities most desired in the animal and so the

necessity for cross-breeding or even for a trade in foreign horses (carrera

de caballos) was ‘stubbornly opposed’ until the 1870s.25 The Iberian Pen-

insula, in fact, remained largely isolated from the main currents of scientific

thought until after the liberal Revolution of 1868 created an atmosphere

more conducive to the dissemination and discussion of new ideas.26 Under

the reign of Alfonso XII (1857–1885), himself a keen promoter of agriculture

and pastoral development, an equine breeding programme administered by

the Ministry of War was established in 1869. Livestock owners sent their

animals for servicing to the Agricultural Institute located in Andalusia. Many

of the horses were of English pedigree, if names are to be taken as indicative

of their country of origin, with stallions such as National Guard, England-

Glory and Norfolk Hero, and breeding mares such as Primrose, Big-Girl and

Betty. During 1882 alone, some 70 mares were presented at the Institute

belonging to such notable breeders as the King, the Conde de Guagui, the

Marqués de Castro Serna, the Duque de Sexto and the Marqués de Santa

Marta. While the benefits of adopting this new practice were apparently so

evident that there was scarcely a livestock owner of any importance who did

‘not recognize the advantages of improving Spanish blood lines by crossing

with English and Arab horses’, the programme itself was regarded as having

been largely ‘ineffectual’.27



The situation in the Philippines was somewhat different, as the colo-

nial state had already intervened on at least one previous occasion in an

at tempt to improve equine breeding. Between 1856 and 1858, there was

an abortive attempt to improve the size of mounts available to the cavalry

by establishing a breeding herd or remonta with imported Arab stallions.28

However, failure to fully understand the dietary needs of horses and to pro-

vide adequate pasturage, together with a lack of proper veterinary support

services resulted in most of the animals dying of starvation. Only two colts

survived over the six years of the herd’s existence and both died shortly

after being pressed into service with the artillery battery.29 The ‘lamentable

consequences’ of this experience were held responsible for effectively cur-

tailing any attempt to improve horse breeding for the next twenty years,

leading many pundits to ‘assure in prophetic tones that in these islands it is

impossible to have good horses’.30

In its report to the governor-general, the special military subcommittee

concluded that indeed the horse had reached such a state of degeneracy

in the Philippines that it ‘no longer satisfies any exigency, above all that of

mounted agencies’ and suggested that urgent measures be taken to improve

the breed. In particular, the committee recommended the unusual step of

importing both stallions and mares from Spain, the establishment of stud

farms (depósitos o paradas de sementales) stocked with such animals, their

replenishment every three to four years with fresh imports, the immediate

purchase of Spanish mules for use by the mountain artillery batteries, and

the creation of breeding herds if the number of mares should prove in suffi-

cient. Certain procedures were also advocated to avoid past mistakes, espe-

cially the need for acclimatisation centres to gradually accustom imported

horses to local feed for a month before sale. Costs for the whole venture

were not expected to exceed 300 pesos per horse and to be fully recoupable

on sale.31 On review, however, the Dirección General de Administración Civil

disagreed with many of the subcommittee’s recommendations. Citing the

Ministry of War’s unsuccessful breeding programme and the ‘disgraceful

complete and utter failure’ of the previous attempt to import horses into

the Philippines in 1858, it recommended instead that stallions and mares

from British India be substituted for Spanish horses. Savings might be made

from buying these animals at a lower price and by halving the costs and

attendant risks of transportation. The state would restrict itself to acting

as a purchasing agent on behalf of interested religious corporations and

private individuals, recuperating costs on delivery in the Philippines. In the

event, it was these proposals that were adopted and formed the basis of the

Royal Order of 30 March 1885 granting approval for the project.32



Several years passed before any attempt was made to implement the

programme and, by then, hope of substantial private participation in the

venture had diminished. Nevertheless in 1888, a joint Commission com-

prising an agricultural specialist and a cavalry officer was dispatched to

British India where it succeeded in purchasing 22 stallions and five mares.33

Departing Bombay on 14 June, together with five ostlers and two months’

provisions, the steamship transporting the horses was hit by a severe storm

off the coast of Goa in which its shaft was broken and the craft left to drift

until taken in tow by an English vessel to the port of Murmugão. A delay

ensued to replace lost stores and settle salvage claims before the horses

were re-embarked on another vessel bound for Singapore. News, however,

that Hong Kong was gripped by a cholera epidemic induced the Commis-

sion to avoid that port and attempt the more hazardous direct route across

the South China Sea to Manila where, after experiencing ‘strong seas’, they

docked in August 1888.34 Despite the vicissitudes of the voyage and sea-

sickness almost always proving fatal to horses, amazingly only two animals

were lost and the remaining 20 stallions and five mares were judged to have

arrived in the Philippines in a perfect state of health.35

Evidently unaware of recent developments in the Philippines, the Minis-

try of Ultramar, the Spanish government department responsible for the

colonies had already issued an order suspending the purchasing of horses

in British India and recalling the Commission. Since it was not possible to

comply with this directive, it was decided to sell the existing animals by

public auction after a suitable period of acclimatisation.36 Of the 25 horses

put up for auction on 1 November, eight were sold on site, six more in the

days following and the remaining animals sent to government agricultural

stations, the Model Farm of Magalang in Pampanga (six horses) and the

Agricultural Station at Iloilo (five horses).37 The average price of 643 pesos

paid per horse, based on the information provided for the six animals sold

after the auction (four stallions and two mares) exceeded expectations and

suggests that the venture might even have yielded a modest profit.38

If the nation state remained more an interested bystander in the scien-

tific and medical advancements of the nineteenth century, content to leave

such matters largely to the endeavours of private individuals and learned

societies, its colonial counterpart was much more directly engaged in the

practical application of new scientific knowledge, either directly or through

the actions of its officials. The military and economic importance of the

horse both as an engine of war and as a means of transportation ensured

that the prevailing ideas on acclimatisation were of interest to colonial

administrators. Faced with the manifest inadequacies of the horse in the

Philippines, wrote Cavalry Brigadier Sanchez Mira, ‘it is not possible to



remain inactive, it is necessary to work, it is indispensable that the State

take the initiative’.39 Such views were only mirrored in the colonies of other

European powers. Certainly Dutch, French and British colonial authorities

were equally obsessed with a desire to improve local stock by breeding with

imported animals and resorted to the same sort of expedients with largely

similar negative outcomes.40

‘Inventing’ the Horse

As a consequence of expanding colonial empires, European natural scien-

tists had become increasingly aware of the influence of terrain and climate

on the distribution of species and had begun to speculate by the late eight-

eenth century on the historical effect that the exchange of flora and fauna

between the continents might have had on the nature of those organisms.

Both Buffon and Lamarck considered living things as inherently subject to

limited transmutations in response to changes in the physical conditions of

life and held that such acquired characteristics were inheritable.41 The ability

to manage this process of acclimatisation was recognised by the 1830s and

the possibility of its profitable application had gained sufficient legitimacy

for the state to promote its public utility.42 In France, the centre of such

studies, one of the most ardent proponents of the new science, Isidore Geof-

froy Saint-Hilaire linked the process of progressive adjustment to what he

called zoötechnie or the scientific propagation and breeding of plants and

animals.43 In an age of high colonialism, such considerations were to prove

of some moment to European governments bent upon pol icies of territorial

aggrandisement and resources exploitation between the Tropics of Cancer

and Capricorn and to the animals that were to unwillingly or unwittingly

accompany them. The attempt to improve the horse in the Philippines by

importing animals from British India provides a means of under standing

the way in which such ideas allowed Europeans to redefine the tropical

environment around them during the nineteenth century not just as a

physical space but as a conceptual one as well. David Arnold argues that

scientific developments, especially the creation of medical specialisation in

the diseases of ‘warm climates’, actually invented the notion of tropicality

between 1890 and 1910.44 The debate over equine zootechny, in particular

the deliberations over what caused the diminution in the size of the horse,

disclose the extent to which Spaniards (and later Americans) had begun to

regard nature as yet one more tropical territory over which they could gain

mastery and exercise dominion

The idea that humanity has a divinely-ordained right to dominion over

nature is shown to be fundamental to Christian cultures.45 The techno logical



developments of the Industrial Revolution, with their emphasis on harnessing

the forces of nature through the agency of the machine, did not seriously

upset such a conceptualisation in Spain, let alone in her remaining colonies,

where the ideas of Charles Darwin were largely ignored prior to 1868.

Though evolutionary theories spread rapidly to ‘even the remotest provinces

of the nation’ during the following decade, it was to Lamarckian notions of

acclimatisation that colonial officials turned to provide the means of enhancing

human mastery not only over inanimate but also over animate nature.46

Animals, especially domesticated animals were represented as loco motoras

vivientes, living machines or engines susceptible to improvement through

breeding that was now ‘no longer subject to obscure and uncertain laws but a

science of calculation and growth’. Scientific breeding permit ted humanity to

obtain ‘appropriate animals for particular services, with different aptitudes,

according to what the caprice of the times demands or the necessities of

Man’.47 Some went even further, appropriating to the ‘intelligence of man’

almost the very act of creating beasts such as ‘the horse, cow and pig, living

machines that are aptly suited to obtaining the desired ends’.48

Science was to provide the means by which humanity could manipulate

nature to compensate for any defect of function or pernicious effect of en-

viron ment. The application of science to breeding was hailed as the answer

needed to halt the continuing degeneracy of the native horse. Confidence

in the new science was unbounded. ‘Zootechny’, wrote the special military

commission, ‘will give us the methods and sure rules so that improvements

will not fail.’ Nor was there any doubting humanity’s right to benefit from

such manipulation ‘since the more it is possible to bring this living machine

nearer perfection, the more will be the labours we can demand of it and the

service with which it can recompense us’.49

There were three principal methods for improving the quality of a

breed: selective breeding (selección), out-breeding in terms of bloodline

(cruzamiento), and inbreeding or line-breeding (progresión). Selective breed-

ing involved carefully choosing stud animals from among the existing stock

for their desirable qualities and procreating from them. The method was

considered practical only ‘when the breed has not reached a very advanced

state of degeneration’ and was slow, requiring many generations to achieve

satisfactory results. With out-breeding, mares from the existing stock were

serviced by stallions drawn from areas of similar climatic conditions. The

main advantage of this method was that changes in the breed were notice-

able immediately and improvements were rapid. The last method, inbreeding

or line-breeding simply comprised introducing stallions and mares from

overseas stock and breeding exclusively from them. The method was quick

but expensive and required the careful acclimatisation of the animals to be



successful. As it was, the principal method decided upon in the Philippine

case was out-breeding local mares with imported stallions: selective breed-

ing was not considered feasible given the poor condition of the indigenous

breed which would be unable to pass onto their progeny ‘qualities which

they do not have’; and line-breeding, though considered preferable in many

ways and implemented on a very modest scale, was rejected because of ‘its

slowness and cost’.50

The proposal adopted fell far short of the comprehensive breeding

scheme of state-stocked stud farms and an acclimatisation centre close to

Manila initially envisaged by the special military subcommittee. However,

the colonial administration hoped in this manner to meet the public demand

for draught and saddle animals and to provide for the immediate needs of

the military without over-committing itself economically. The decision to

replace Arab stud stock from Spain with animals imported from British India

was not purely a cost saving measure but also recognition of the importance

of environmental factors. Horses from British India were already considered

to be accustomed to tropical climate and pasturage and so were expected

to more readily acclimatise to conditions in the Philippines. Much was made

of the apparent successful adjustment of just such a stallion called (predict-

ably) Raja and other animals already in the possession of a Manila resident,

a certain Mr Barretts.51 Nor would there be any loss in quality from such

a substitution. The best bloodline in Spain, considered to be the Casa de

Monte of the Carthusian Monastery at Jerez, shared many of the qualities of

the horse in India, both being derived from the same Arab stock.52

The colonial authorities considered that these drastic measures were

urgently required because of the state of degeneracy that the local horse

had reached by the late nineteenth century. Its size and strength from their

perspective fell far short of the ideal and was considered ‘inappropriate for

the service that this animal has been called upon to lend to humanity’.53

But Spaniards were also aware that they had introduced the horse to the

Philippines and that the present state and condition of the breed must be

the result of local factors acting upon it. In particular, they identified the

climate, poor breeding practices and the backwardness of agriculture. But if

the animal had been changed once, then it could be changed back again, so

to speak. And while the particulars of this process were to remain unclear

until the mechanism of hereditary was properly understood, zootechny

seemed to confer upon humanity at least a certain control over the forces of

nature. Even as the tropics were increasingly perceived as hostile to those for

whom it was not an ancestral environment during the nineteenth century,

Spaniards progressively felt more able to ‘mobilize the natural world to

their economic and cultural advantage’.54



The tropical climate of the Philippines was initially held to be primarily

responsible for the diminution in the horse’s size. It was thought that con stant

exposure to the inclemency of the weather, especially the ultraviolet rays of

the sun, had a ‘modifying’ influence on all animal organisms, changing their

physical qualities and ‘imprinting special and indelible characteristics that

are transmitted hereditarily’. Ultimately, these processes could lead to the

generation of a new breed, though the exact way by which this transformation

was realised remained ‘mysterious’. Despite the variety of climatic conditions

prevalent on Luzon, some even similar to those in Spain, ‘nevertheless in

all these [areas], horses are small, badly formed and degenerate; evidence

indeed, that makes it difficult to refute those who blame on the hot climate,

the deterioration of the race’. Such views, however, were beginning to

be questioned by the late nineteenth century: climatic conditions were

still thought important but were no longer quite so generally considered

to be primary determinants. Instead, the process of degeneration began

to be primarily blamed on ‘the pernicious system of breeding, caused by

the lack of scientific knowledge, the want of abundant and adequate foods,

and the backwardness of agriculture’. In fact, with advances in zootechnical

knowledge and improvements in agriculture, the climate might even be con-

vert ed ‘into our ally, making it contribute to the generation of a breed of

horses, that are naturalised here, and that pass on their good qualities to

their descendants’.55

The change in attitude implicit in the development of these ideas repre-

sents an important conceptual shift from holding the tropical climate per se

responsible for the causes of equine diminution to blaming current breeding

practices and inadequate knowledge about nature for the present condition;

in other words to meld the action (or lack of action) of the indigenous

population with the environment as the agency of degeneration. Indigenous

live stock owners were accused first by Spanish and later by American officials

of following breeding methods best described as ‘savage’ and ‘neglectful’.

But this ignorance was not simply about maltreating animals, though Indios

were accused of showing horses ‘little affection’ and not taking ‘the care of

them that such noble animals deserve’. Rather, the matter was one of poor

consanguinity and repeated inbreeding, underlain by images of ‘incestuous

unions’ and unbridled sexual licence.56

Obsession with the purity of equine bloodlines and prohibitions against

inbreeding or crossbreeding have a long history in Spain where royal ordin-

ances dating back to ‘the time of the most ancient of monarchs’ proscribed

‘in truly horrendous terms’ the propagation of mules (‘that hybrid race’) as

prejudicial to the breeding of horses.57 Such prejudices were still clearly

discernible in the Philippines, whose livestock owners were accused of con-



fining their animals together: mares of all different sizes, stallions without

regard for condition or age, and their colts and fillies from the time of

their birth to their sale in what was deemed by Spaniards as a ‘detestable

companionship’ or more prosaically by Americans as ‘co-herding’.58 All were

apparently kept together without any attempt at segregation ‘without the

intervention of the hand of man’, allowing nature to indulge in a rampant

permissiveness uninhibited by morality and governed only by the heat of

the blood accentuated by the heat of the tropical climate. The result of this

system of breeding was degeneracy, ‘not a race that endures’.59 Instead, what

was evidently required was human control guided by scientific knowledge

to eschew the effects of consanguinity and by the importation of ‘superior’

bloodlines as a means of improving ‘degenerate’ native breeds.

What all this meant, however, for the well-being and prosperity of the

Philippine Horse was far more menacing. The threat to the native stallion was

mainly to forestall its role as progenitor. While the body of the female horse

was to be subordinated as the vessel for a new race, that of the male was to

be assaulted by the wholesale castration of his kind.60 Castration of native

stallions not desired as sires, eventually to include all such horses, along

with the introduction of new bloodlines from abroad, a process the Spanish

referred to as refrescamiento de sangre (literally ‘refreshing the blood’) was

deemed the most effective way to improve the breed, seemingly unaware of

the irony that the same so-called ‘Arab blood’ that would improve the breed

of horse had a long and bloody history of persecution among the human

population of the Iberian Peninsula. Prizes were to be awarded for those

specimens that most closely matched the desired conformational ideal. Nor

were the Spanish alone in these beliefs: Dutch colonial authorities employed

a surprisingly similar terminology to describe comparable practices. In the

Netherlands East Indies, the process was referred to as reinteelt or ‘clean-

breeding’ and its implementation involved the introduction of Arab and

Australian studs, the selective castration of inferior stallions, the creation

of a breeding register and the imposition of export restrictions.61

Castration was also regarded as having further ‘benefits’ from the

human perspective. Far from weakening or making an animal sluggish, it

was claimed by both Spaniards and Americans that a stallion became less

dis tracted, saved energy that might otherwise be expended ‘in fretting or

other ways’ and so enhanced his ability to work. In addition, even vicious

animals became more docile and easier to handle but retained ‘just as much

strength and vigor as they had before’. In the case of young horses, cas-

tration was recommended at the age of one year.62 The practice, however,

was bitterly resisted by local Filipino horse owners: ‘the prejudice against

castration is so strong among the people that it is impossible to castrate



more than a very small percentage of those that should not be serving

mares’. Such resistance may have reflected practical concerns with ideas

about virility and strength in both animal and human. While these policies

remained largely notional under Spanish rule, the pressures brought to bear

by the subsequent American administration proved much more difficult

to resist. ‘I have talked this matter over with some of them’, reports the

Director of Studs, H. Casey in 1905, ‘and they are willing to try it.’63 Even on

the Catanduanes Islands, ‘the work’ was soon being carried out in all but

one of the municipalities and even there it was ‘shortly’ anticipated to be

introduced.64 While castration is a recognised breeding technique and was

vigorously pursued both in the metropole and by colonial administrations

in many parts of the world, the planned wholesale emasculation of all native

stallions was an attempt to genetically alter an entire breed of horse.65 Colo-

nial policies over equine reproduction represent a relentless intensification

of human attempts to control the horse’s corporeal form and reverse the

animal’s long-term adaptation to its new environment.

Horses, Race and Identity

The debate over the colonial government’s attempt to improve equine blood-

lines through a selected breeding programme with Arab stallions in the

1880s reveals much about changing Spanish attitudes towards nature in

tropical regions. While colonialism had endured in the Philippines since

1565, it was only in the nineteenth century that Europeans began to see

themselves as maladapted to settlement in the islands. The tropics were

increasingly regarded as a hostile and deleterious environment, where pro-

longed exposure to a hot and moist climate was blamed for the poor health

of individuals and for a progressive degeneration of the race. However, as

increasing numbers of Europeans gained first-hand experience of living (and

dying) in tropical regions, earlier notions about the gradual adaptability of

physical constitutions to climatic differences through the selective adop-

tion of local diet, dress and custom were replaced by the conviction that

geo-medical boundaries restricted races to their ancestral environments.

High white morbidity and mortality rates only lent credence to ideas about

the unwholesome nature of the tropical climate and its degenerative effects

on the physical and moral constitutions of the colonisers.66 Such views were

equally held with regard to the plants and animals introduced by Europeans

whose relocation outside of their particular geographical region or patrie

d’origine was blamed for progressive losses in fertility and diminution

even when transported to similar climatic zones.67 Nor could these beliefs

really be separated from their moral overtones that seemingly endorsed



poly genist attitudes about racial origins and provided a justification for

imperial intervention.68 And just as the tropical climate and indigenous

population in the Philippines came to be held responsible for the plight of

the horse, so, also, was the earth itself, the soil and what grew in it, found

to be at fault, completing the portrayal of an environment inhospitable and

malevolent to non-indigenous life-forms. Much was made of the backward

state of agriculture: the poor nutritional value of available forage to sustain

the proper development of colts and the health of mothers, and the com-

plete absence of artificial pasturage.69

In short, then, the Spaniards held the tropical environment in its widest

context – climate, soil, foliage and even native inhabitants – to blame for the

diminution in size of the Philippine Horse. Moreover, it was an environment

imbued with a moral laxity and sexual permissiveness, abandonment to

whose forces could only lead to degeneration of both the physical and mental

form. In both these respects, Spanish ideas differed little if at all from those

of other European colonising powers. Views about the organic inferiority of

the New World dated back to Buffon and eighteenth century America, while

warmer climates had long been held to promote sexual license.70 Nor did

the matter stop with the beasts of the field. In the Philippines, the horse

was considered as only suffering ‘the consequence of the laws of nature

that can be observed in man and animals of foreign extraction to these

climes; they become debilitated, deteriorate in activity and strength and

after several generations there is little utility to be hoped for from them’.71

Thus the same environmental forces considered by the Spaniards to be at

work on the horse were acting in similar ways on the human physiognomy

and constitution. The tropics were defined as the region least suited to

the white race: the ultraviolet rays of the sun were regarded as harmful to

those whose racial constitution was ‘potentially in harmony only with the

particular ancestral environment, or climate, in which a race had evolved’;

and the association of tropical heat with moisture and fever were thought to

adversely affect human health.72 Despite the enormous advances in medical

knowledge consequent upon the discoveries of Louis Pasteur, Robert Koch

and other micro-biologists after 1870 that diseases were caused by specific

bacteria or protozoa, that is to say germs that conferred a certain amount

of scientific respectability on such claims, prejudicial attitudes towards the

tropical environment persisted.73

Spaniards also considered the constant hot and humid climate of the

Philippines to be enervative and debilitating to the human constitution.

Movement from the temperate climes of Europe to the moist, warm ones of

the tropics was generally held to expose the European frame to an alarming

range of ailments.74 ‘In a word, it is anti-vital to a greater or lesser degree,



since that aforementioned temperature slackens animal fibre, producing a

general laxity that with greater or lesser vehemence encourages lethargy

and inaction with all their consequences.’ But the effects were considered to

go deeper than simply the health of an individual as the climate was thought

to ‘lessen animal life’. Diminutiveness in form was one of the results to

be observed in the animal kingdom: ‘weakness, decadence and small ness’

diminished the higher one ascended the ladder of life, just as ‘vigour,

lux uriance and exuberance’ multiplied the lower one descended towards

the vegetable kingdom. That was why native ‘ruminants, pachyderms and

solipeds yield much in terms of size, weight, strength and gracefulness, to

those from temperate zones’. But the same author held that ‘equal or larger

differ ences’ existed with humans or what he referred to as ‘bimanals’, so

that ‘[indigenous] people resemble so little the European with respect to

their constitution, as much in their physical as in their intellectual capacity’.

The results could even be seen among European residents of the tropics.

‘But the difference does not end there; it continues yet among individuals

of the same white race, that is to say, among the Europeans recently arrived

in the country and those that have been two, three or more years residence.

What profound and appreciable modification in temperament and level of

energy the recently arrived cannot fail to observe [among the latter] in his

first moments.’ The only conclusion to be drawn was that: ‘The Philippines

is not salubrious for the European, who can be considered as a truly an

exotic plant in that burning soil.’75

So the attenuation of the horse in the Philippines challenged cherished

notions of Iberian identity, a culture that etymologically equated the status

of gentleman with horse riding. The Spanish word for gentleman or sir,

caball ero, literally means horseman. To the Spaniard, the horse was a symbol

of dignity and status: the King himself even issued detailed instructions

about how an animal chosen to carry the royal seal re-establishing the high

court in Manila in 1598 was to be caparisoned. The horse, a large gelding,

was to have ‘on the two sides of it hangings, which must be of brocade or

silk, two shields bearing my royal arms, the face being covered with cloths

of the same [material]’.76 Above all, the furnishings of horses were a way

of publicly displaying wealth and status in society. Accounts abound of the

opulence of saddles decorated with ornaments of gold, precious gems,

enamel and other rarities, and of gilded stirrups, rivets, bits and buckles.

None more so than at the public festivities held in Manila to celebrate the

accession of Philip IV, when the elite of Spanish society vied with one

another in lavish displays of affluence. Few, however, could compete with

the magnificence of Don Gerónimo de Silva bestride his great grey horse

with its embroidered saddle and its band set with many pearls, the value of



which was ‘in the judgement of experienced persons, estimated at nine or

ten thousand pesos’, a truly fabulous sum for that time and place.77 Spanish

views linking horse ownership and status were still prevalent in the nine-

teenth century when Sinibaldo de Mas recommended the imposition of an

annual tax on Indios and Mestizos who desired to use a carriage or saddle

horse ‘so that those who sustain this luxury may be very few’. Comparable

attitudes have been noted of similarly martial societies who have made of

the horse a potent symbol of military supremacy not only through making

conquest possible but also ‘through its own natural imperialism’.78

But the horse symbolised more than simply the dignity and status of the

individual and at times came to represent the very majesty and puissance

of the state itself. Governor-generals presented richly caparisoned horses

to neighbouring potentates, as if the attributes of the animal were some-

how representative of the majesty of Spain. One such horse, ‘an excel lent

animal ’, was sent to the King of Cambodia in 1593 in exchange for the

latter’s princely gift of elephants.79 The other circumstance in which the

horse was closely associated with the power of the state was through the

colonial army. The cavalry, in particular, was the most prestigious service

within the armed forces. Indeed, a letter to the King from Governor Sebastian

Hurtado de Corcuera in 1636 suggested that government expenses could be

reduced by raising a company of fifty horsemen ‘made up from the nobility

of the city, who can keep horses’. Nor did the animal’s association with

the deployment of state power necessarily diminish with the passing of

time and by the mid-nineteenth century the colonial army consisted of 1000

mounted personnel.80

Small horses that made an adult Spaniard look foolish undermined

ideas about Iberian nobility and racial superiority. The question was even

more serious with regard to the military. The attenuation of the horse over

the centuries seemed to parallel the waning of colonial power and the

animal’s adjustment to its new environment to mirror Spain’s need to come

to terms with its diminishing position in world affairs. Such a decline had

to be stopped at all costs according to Cavalry Brigadier Sanchez Mira. The

attempt to improve the domestic horse through an aggressive breeding pro-

gramme with Arab blood-stock imported from British India illustrates how

Spaniards had begun to rethink their notions about the environment and

their ability to control the forces of nature around them. Moreover, it clearly

shows the important role the colonial state took in this enterprise. Far from

substantiating the image of administrative stagnation that their colonial

successors were only too eager to disseminate, Spanish officials displayed

an easy conversance with the contemporary literature on zootechny and

acclimatisation and exhibited a willingness to put it into practice.



Conclusion

Horses may appear at first sight a somewhat tenuous method of analysing

broad changes in biological thinking during the period of high colonialism,

yet animal breeding provides a means of understanding the close relation-

ship between environment, science and imperialism during the nineteenth

and early twentieth centuries. The widespread domestication of animals

and their successful propagation around the world were frequently cited

as examples in support of acclimatisation and the possibility of colonial

settle ment outside of original climatic homelands. Alfred Crosby depicts the

impact of imported livestock on the ‘Neo-Europes’, the temperate regions

of North/South America and Australasia as a ‘world-altering avalanche’.

How ever, the situation in Europe’s tropical colonial possessions was some-

what different: rather than the animal transforming the environment,

the environment transformed the animal; rather than proliferating in un-

precedented numbers, its physiognomy progressively became more diminu-

tive.81 Yet Europeans often still remained dependent upon such imported

live stock and the questions raised by their modification were of considerable

military and economic significance.

The colonial state’s attempt to increase the size of the domestic horse

in the Philippines and other areas of South and Southeast Asia through out-

breeding local mares with imported stallions and the concurrent debates

over acclimatisation and zootechny, however, reveal another dimension

to the period of high colonialism: the way in which some Europeans had

subtly begun to redefine the natural world around them. Just as the tropics

increasingly began to be perceived as inherently inimical to white settle-

ment, confidence was growing in the colonists’ ability to control those same

forces of nature, enhancing their consciousness of superiority and right

to dominion. To Spaniards, nature in the tropics was strange, having no

clearly understood effects on animal physiognomies that were thought to

retard growth, cause diminution in physical size and, by implication, mental

development. Those to whom the tropics were not an ancestral environment

degenerated, became enfeebled and debilitated and so served ‘little utility’.

And tropical nature had a still darker side, being perceived as malevolent,

inimical to the health and welfare of the European who was ‘truly an exotic

plant in that burning soil’. Indeed, the idea that a cost had to be paid in

terms of higher morbid ity and mortality rates among Europeans stationed

overseas had long been recognised and even monetarily quantified by

colonial authorities.82

Of course, the way in which Spaniards perceived the tropical environ -

ment and its effect on the horse depended much upon their scientific



unders tanding of the world about them. As Warwick Anderson has argued,

technical knowledge of any kind constitutes a form of colonial appropriation

with the ability to ‘shape and regulate colonial social life’.83 After more than

400 years of imperial venture in the New World, Spaniards were engaged

in reinventing the Philippines by the late nineteenth century through a

discourse on tropicality that redefined the islands and their own role there.

No longer was their continuing imperium justifiable simply in terms of the

‘one true religion’ and the saving of souls; their new mission was cast in

the language of scientific knowledge and as the purveyors of progress, a

rhetoric that became more pronounced under the ensuing colonial regime.

Spanish views on zootechny considered the local horse to have become

degenerate, a condition blamed on the climate, poor breeding practices and

the backwardness of agriculture. But if this state of affairs was the result

of the tropical environment, these same factors were also at work on all

animal life in the archipelago, including the human population. Indigenous

peoples were first melded with the environment becoming indistinguishable

from it, and then imbued with all the attributes associated with the natural

forces around them: debilitation, dissoluteness, depravity, degeneracy and

diminution. And just as nature needed the intervening hand of man, white

man, to reverse the process of retardation, so the local population required

the guidance and control of Spanish colonialism to escape from ‘savagery’.

In the process, the Spanish appropriated the natural world to condone and

even justify racial superiority and European imperialism. And, the Philip -

pine Horse? Once adapted to its new environment, it stubbornly resisted all

attempts to increase its size and can still be seen today much as it was four

centuries ago.


123

Just as in the case of Southeast Asia, the growth of the colonial state and the rise

of the Dutch Vereenigde Oost-Indisch Compagnie (United East India Company

or VOC) during the seventeenth century had considerable consequences for

the human and equine populations under it, linking far-flung Southeast Asia

and the southern tip of Africa. Although species of the genus equus – like

the zebra and ass – have been present in Africa since earlier times, the horse

(Equus caballus) is not indigenous, but was intro duced into the continent.

Although the horse was in regular use in North and West Africa from 600

AD, there were none in the southern tip prior to European colonisation.1 Both

African Horse Sickness and trypanosomiasis presented pathogenic barriers

to horses reaching the Cape overland. Just as in the Philippines, Equus was

an element of the ‘portmanteau biota’ that followed European settlement

of southern Africa from the mid-seventeenth century.2 The early modern

colonial state that had come into being by the nineteenth century – against

resistance from the metropole – was based, at least in part, on the power of

the horse in the realm of agriculture, the military and communications. This

chapter seeks to explore a particular facet of horse–human relationships,

focusing on their introduction at the Cape and the consequent symbolic and

practical ramifications. As in the case of Southeast Asia, the ‘invention’ of

new horse breeds meant the dis semin ation of equine genes and phenotypes

from Europe, Asia and the Americas and their fusion through deliberate state

intervention, idealistic individual efforts by groups of breeders and often by

the everyday politics of economic pragmatism. The resultant breeds were

thus partly a product of their adaptation to new environments, and largely a

corollary of their close connection to human society.

This chapter discusses the history of horses and white settlers at the

Cape. Horses were the first domestic stock imported by the settlers and

horses became integral to their identity as Europeans, used both symbolic-

ally and in a material sense to affirm white difference from the indigenous

Riding High – Horses, Power and Settler Society in Southern Africa, c. 1654–1840

Sandra Swart

8



population.3 The power relations played out through the horse are explored

and contextualised with references to other settler societies. The socio-histor-

ical role of the equid in settler society and the divergence in horse culture

from c. 1796 is discussed. The equine breeds became progressively more

differentiated: the original ‘South East Asia Ponies’ made way for English

Thoroughbreds imported for the racing industry, itself a consequence of

British imperial interest in southern Africa from the late eighteenth century.

The English thoroughbred followed a very different trajectory from the

other key ‘breed’ of horse, which became known as the ‘Cape horse’, derived

from original ‘South East Asia Pony’ stock with a globalised admixture of

American and European stock.

As Necessary as Bread?

The Cape’s strategic positioning, midway between Europe and the East

Indies on contemporary maritime routes, and the region’s agreeable climate

rendered it potentially useful as a site for European settlement. In 1652 the

VOC commissioned Jan van Riebeeck4 to establish a re-provisioning station

there to develop a meat supply and to cultivate fresh produce. In 1657, one

year before the first import of slaves to the colony, the VOC released nine

of its employees from their contracts, creating the first land-holding, free

burgher community at the Cape.5 They were intended to establish independent

commercial farms that would provide the settlement with a steady food supply.

The indigenous Khoisan6 proved reluctant to enter the settler-controlled wage

labour economy, which both exasperated and mystified the colonists.7 This

added to the perceived necessity for equine draught power.

There is evidence to suggest the existence of only one feral horse pre-

Van Riebeeck, possibly the survivor of a shipwreck.8 He was observed to

be wearing a decaying rope halter, and was so wild he could not be caught.

Consequently, the settlement initially faced construction with no draught

animals. It was not part of the Dutch social tradition to use oxen for draught.

Moreover, while oxen were occasionally ridden by some indigenous groups,

controlled by a stick thrust through their nostrils, they were untrained in

drawing wheeled vehicles.9

Van Riebeeck wished to reshape the landscape, to change the native

ecosystem. The first white settlers attempted what is common to most

settlers – to make themselves at home on the land by making it like ‘home’.

One aspect of this was the introduction of horses, which were not only

an alien species from the metropole, but had the potential to transform

the physical environment with their draught power.10 Van Riebeeck wished

to reshape the land itself with horses: he wanted to remove the bushes,


8. Riding High – Southern Africa, c. 1654–1840 125

plough the soil, and cut down shrubs and trees, with that arboreal ani-

mosity common to settler societies, and encircle his settlement with a

hedge of wild almonds.11 He argued that horses would prove invaluable

in transporting lumber, sand and clay and firewood to make bricks for

construction, and in revolutionis ing agriculture at the settlement with

ploughing and threshing.12

The Company, however, acceded to requests that delivered more im medi -

ate material results, and his written requests were ignored by his su periors

in Amsterdam.13 Moreover, the original plan was not to create a colony, but

rather merely a refreshment station at which to refuel ships en route from

the Netherlands to the East. Horses and free burghers were inextricably

entangled in Van Riebeeck’s changing vision for the development of the

country; with enough horses he believed he could provide provisions for the

Eastern settlements – and fashion a colony rather than merely a provision-

ing station.14 He attempted to persuade the Company by arguing that only

horses would allow for the exploration of the hinterland. In May 1653, he

observed ‘I wish we had a dozen [horses], when we could ride armed to

some distance in the interior, to see whether anything for the advantage of

the Company is to be found there …’.15 He argued that it would accelerate

the settling period, saving both time and human labour (particularly after

he erected a horse mill in May 1657).16 He further contended that horses

would make the settlers independent of the Khoisan, enabling them to

acquire their own construction materials and wood, thus freeing them from

an otherwise unavoidable policy of conciliation.17

Accordingly, Van Riebeeck argued that his biggest problem was the

continual shortage of horses. He wrote in his journal that horses were ‘soo

nodigh als broot in den mont zyn’ (‘as necessary as bread in our mouths’).18

It was to become a perpetual refrain. He recorded in November 1654, ‘[I]t is

to be wished that we had a few more horses than the 2 we have at present,

both of which are being used for brick-making. We should then be able

to get from the forest everything we need, both timber and firewood, as

the roads are quite suitable for wagons.’ In April 1655, he wrote, ‘[W]e are

therefore still urgently in need of another 6 or 8 horses.’19 He judged horses

to be his ‘greatest and principal need’, demanding: ‘Horses! Give me more

horses!’20 His requests became petitions, which became pleas, but remained

ignored by Amsterdam.21

Zebra Crossing?

Van Riebeeck was hampered by two factors: the strict economy of the VOC

and the Company’s desire to maintain the region as a refreshment station



and not to develop it as a colony in its own right.22 He was thus refused,

with the Company suggesting that he avail himself of the ‘wilde paarden’,

‘indigenous horses’, the zebras and quaggas. Three wild members of the

horse family were local to the area – later classified as the mountain zebra

(Equus zebra), Burchell’s zebra (Equus burchelli) and the quagga (Equus

quagga) now extinct.23 Van Riebeeck initially planned to tame them but

found that he could not even catch them.24 He recorded in 1660, that one

of his explorers, Pieter Meerhoff shot a ‘wild horse’ [zebra], and while it

was down straddled it in order to sever its sinews, but ‘the horse rose

with him still astride, and immediately jumped a stream … and [Meerhoff]

received a kick in the face.’25 Van Riebeeck noted that the ‘horse’ was a

‘beautiful dapple grey, except that across the crupper and buttocks and

along the legs it was … strangely streaked with white, sky-blue and a

brownish-red. It had small ears just like a horse’s, a fine head and slender

legs like the best horse one could wish for.’ He distinguished between

quagga (which he observed the locals called Douqua), which he likened to

mules, and zebra, which he likened to horses (and which the locals called

Haqua). He tried to get living specimens of either but the Khoikhoi refused

to assist, an indication of the dangerous nature of these equids, or, as Van

Riebeeck argued, an indication that ‘the [Khoikhoi] are beginning to realise

more and more that we would thereby be the better able to keep them in

submission’.26

The traveller Kolbe speculated, in 1727, that if domestic stock had not

been introduced so rapidly, a more determined and sustained attempt at

taming the indigenous ‘horses’ would have taken place.27 Certainly, even

after the introduction of horses and the founding of an embryo-horse in-

dus try, indigenous equines with their apparent immunity to horse sickness,

proved an inviting proposition.28 Anecdotal evidence has it that quagga

were more tameable than zebra and only their extinction prevented their

use as a viable alternative to horses. The Swedish explorer, Anders Sparr-

man, noted in 1785 that it was possible to tame zebras, and as they showed

little fear they could be turned out with the horses at night to protect them

against predators, and further, ‘Had the colonists tamed them and used

them instead of horses, in all probability they would have been in no danger

of losing them, either by the wolves or the epidemic disorder [African Horse

Sickness] to which the horses here are subject.’29 He argued that horses

were weaker in the Cape than in Europe, and quaggas or zebras would make

better use of the dry pasture available.30 A Cape Town guidebook noted

resignedly in 1819, however, that ‘the zebra is said to be wholly beyond the

government of man’.31



Introducing the Horse

Establishing an initial settler equine stock was difficult. The long journey

between the Netherlands and the Cape militated against sending Dutch

horses, and the VOC resorted instead to sending stock from their base in

Java, possibly from Sumbawa. ‘Javanese’ imports were small hardy crea-

tures, thirteen and a half hands high.32 They were also known as ‘South East

Asia Ponies’, an amalgam of Arab and Mongolian breeds, their ancestors

having been acquired purportedly from Arab traders in the East Indies.33

Van Riebeeck criticised these first horses as too light, almost like English

genets or insubstantial French horses (not sizeable, heavy-built and solid

like the draught horses available in the Netherlands). Horses and white

settlers were sent to the Cape in the same year 1652; the horses however

were purportedly driven onto the island of St. Helena by a storm.34 In 1653

four ‘Javanese’ (or more likely, Sumbawan) ponies were imported.35 In 1659,

sixteen more horses were permitted by the Company to be imported from

the East in order ‘om alle roverÿe der Hottentotten tegen te staan’ (‘to put an

end to theft by the [Khoikhoi]’).36

The horses – together with a pack of hunting dogs – were imported, to a

certain extent to inspire terror in the Khoisan, who were beginning to initiate

raids upon the settlement.37 Van Riebeeck argued that a watch of twenty riders

would prove a sufficient deterrent.38 On 7 June 1660, the settler authorities

used horses to display settler ascendancy: ‘… the Com mander, galloping along

the near bank towards the farms of the … Free Burghers, soon disappeared

from their view. His purpose was also to demon strate the speed of the horses,

which caused great awe among them.’ Van Riebeeck noted with satisfaction

that the local population were astonished and impressed by horses, because

of the ‘miracles’ of speed he performed with them.39

Van Riebeeck was drawing on an entrenched tradition, as horses were

long associated in western Europe with the society of the elite and with the

culture of hegemony. The horse had long distinguished the ruler from the

ruled, with the rider a symbol of dominance.40 The cost included not only

the purchase price, but food, the transport of fodder and water, protection,

structural shelter and space,41 accoutrements (tack, training devices and

tack-cleaning materials), shoes or hoof trimming, labour (grooming, exercise

and training), and medical attention.42 In Europe, the nobility’s focus on a

range of equine activities (mounted games, dressage, ladies’ riding, hunting,

carriage or coach-driving, or racetrack), and – as the western/non-western

interface grew – an interest in exotic breeds like Arabians and Barbs,43 led

to a marked and ever-increasing differentiation in varieties of horses, bred

for particular social niches. The complex, almost balletic, movements of



what we would now call dressage, the style identified as haute école, swept

Europe. Practitioners were largely of the aristocracy, who had the leisure

and financial resources to pursue the art – rather than the utilitarian dimen-

sion – of riding.

A similar phenomenon was not observable in early settler society at

the Cape and horses retained a utilitarian function until the beginning of

the nineteenth century. Because most colonists came to South Africa in the

service of the VOC, the majority of early settlers represented the lowest

class of the Netherlands’ and Germany’s hierarchical societies.44 Company

employment was both hazardous and low paid, thus attracting the poorest

elements of society to its service – men unfamiliar with haute école.45 In a

different way, however, horses did become a symbol of status within the

evolving southern African communities. Horses gained a military use from

1670. There were – perhaps consequently – several attacks by Khoisan on

horses; two horses were killed in July 1672, for example. It is not certain

whether these attacks were motivated by the intent of obliterating horse

stock, a desire for food or whether a horse acted as a proxy of white settle-

ment, being perhaps one of its most visible and vulnerable manifestations.46

The body of the horse was thus both a symbol of power and, perhaps be-

cause of it, a site of struggle. In the cultural context of animals and racism ,

Glen Elder, Jennifer Wolch and Jody Emel have argued that ‘animals and

their bodies appear to be one site of struggle over the protection of national

identity and the production of cultural difference.’47

The first armed militia controlled by whites in southern Africa was

established by the VOC. At first the Company had no large garrison and

therefore relied on a few soldiers supplemented with local farmers and

the indigenous people – who volunteered or were compelled to join a kom-

mando.48 The first kommando was established in 1670, which initiated

the horse’s military role – as opposed to simply draught and transport.

By the early nineteenth century, the kommando system had become the

dominant military mode.49 The horse-based kommando system extended

into politics, culture and social mythology.50 Just as in the case of West

Africa, the dominance of cavalry had more than solely military implications;

it had an important influence on the character of political structure and

social institutions.51 Horse culture in South Africa reinforced the complex

interconnection of military, economic and political power, coupled to social

institutions. Kommando was part of the social machinery in the construction

of settler, particularly Boer, masculine identity. However, despite desperate

efforts, horses were not contained by white society; the equine industry did

not remain in white hands. By the eighteenth century, the stud managers

were often ‘coloured boys’ or ‘Hottentot[s] or Cape boy[s]’.52



The Growth of the Horse Trade

Several factors militated against the successful introduction of horses to

the Cape. Transportation was difficult – in 1673 a cargo of horses drowned,

only two were saved, and in 1690 all horses died on the arduous sea voyage.

On land, conditions were equally dangerous. African Horse Sickness (often

dubbed ‘distemper’) was a perennial problem.53 A febrile and infectious

disease, it was the scourge of the wet season – an ailment believed by the

settlers to be carried by evening miasmas.54 There was no natural fodder

– hay or grain – and forage was often of low quality. Predation by lions

and other wildlife played a minor role, killing some of the prime stock and

necessitating unmitigated vigilance. In June 1656, when his best stallion was

eaten by lions, Van Riebeeck anguished: ‘This has greatly inconvenienced

us, when one considers all the work done by horses – one alone does more

than ten men in pulling the plough, in carrying clay, stone, and timber from

the forest …’ Horses occasionally died from settler misuse, and legislation

was introduced to prohibit the premature use of colts and fillies, which

underlines the importance of horses to the young settlement, and how

seriously the administration took them.55 As previously discussed, as the

indigenous population realised the extent to which horses formed the white

power base, there were attacks on horses. Arguably, stock theft became

increasingly a factor as local communities realised the utilitarian value of

the horse to them.

Despite these limiting factors, however, there was a steadily growing

horse trade and, although overworked, these ponies bred successfully. By

1662, there was a herd of 40. They were now integral to the defence of the

settlement, with 18 mounted men patrolling the border against cattle-raid-

ing Khoisan. By 1667 there were 50 horsemen on watch duty. When one of

these guards and his mount drowned while drunkenly fording a river, the

mare was mourned more than the soldier.56

Horses ceased to be under the sole control of the authorities in 1665, when

a public auction was held and free burghers were granted the right to breed

horses. They continued to be a public asset, however, and were considered

vital to the functioning of the settlement. The polity exercised a controlling

hand. In May 1674, for example, a man was prosecuted for shooting his own

(rogue) horse.57 The rising stock saw an increase in quan tity and a decrease

in quality. Inbreeding began to affect the herds, certain birth defects – like

weak hindquarters – were becoming obvious. In a 1686 plakkaat (decree),

the governor, Simon van der Stel, tried to prevent the deterioration of stock,

imposing a fine of 40 rixdollars if colts were used under the age of three

years, and importing stud stallions in 1689 (allegedly from Persia).58



The number of horses continued to increase. In 1673, two more Javan-

ese ponies were introduced, and in 1676 two horses and four mules from

Europe. During the first 125 years of settlement horses were imported from

Europe to the Cape only once, all the rest were from the East. In 1683 four

horses were imported from Persia via Mauritius, in 1689 eleven horses from

Persia. By 1681 the Free Burghers possessed 106 horses, and the Company

91 horses. In 1700, there were 928 horses. By 1715 the Company had 396

horses and the white settlers 2,325. In 1719, when the first crippling epi-

demic of horse sickness hit, the industry survived despite the loss of 1,700

horses. By 1744 the colonists had 5,749 horses. Hackneys were evidently

imported in 1792.59 Horse breeding continued at a steady rate, resulting in

a ‘breed’ or, more accurately, a broad morphological type of horse that came

to known as the ‘Cape Horse’.

Unlike the horse in the American west,60 horses did not represent

free dom or wildness to the white settlers, but rather civilization.61 This was

because there were no indigenous feral horses to be ‘broken in’. This meant

that extremely difficult exercises in importation had to be undertaken and

– even once there – equine existence in the colony remained precarious,

threatened by disease and predators, both human and animal. Horses were

not wild creatures to be tamed, but extensions of western civilisation to

be nurtured and protected in order that they serve the white expansionist

projects. The frontier consequently did not develop rodeo or related

eques trian games – there were no contests as to who could ride the

Figure 8.1 The Growth of the Horse Population in the Cape, 1652–1702.

8.1 Growth of the Horse Population in the Cape, 1652–1702

HORSE OWNERSHIP

0

200

400

600

800

1000

1200

1400

1600

1800

2000

2200

2400

2600

1652

1657

1662

1667

1672

1677

1682

1687

1692

1697

1702

YEAR

NU

MBER

OF H

OR

SES

Horses owned by VOC

Horses owned by Free Burghers



wildest bronco. Horses meant (white) civilization – both symbolically and

physically.

The ‘Cape Horse’

It is a common trend that colonists create new breeds of horses to suit their

needs. If a local horse existed (or if there were no indigenous horses but

there were various breeds more readily available to import than those of the

metropole), it could be utilised and often cross-bred with imported stock,

and deliberately shaped, ultimately resulting in a new form of horse. These

horses could differ markedly from those of the metropole, and after a while

could come to be identified with the particular colonial culture, facilitating

the differentiation from the metropolitan culture. After in depend ence,

horses were often one of the symbols utilised in the development of na-

tional pride and self-definition. This is illustrated vividly by the case of the

gaited Peruvian Paso (a horse that walks and canters, but instead of trotting

performs an amble, with legs moving in broken lateral pairs to create a

four-beat smooth ride, like the tripple).62 The Peruvian Paso, based on Barb

and Iberian stock (including ambling horses) from the sixteenth century,

were brought to the Americas by the Spanish. They were selectively bred

for long comfortable strides, and were relied on for covering vast distances

where wheeled vehicles could not go. From 1824, it became entangled in

ideas surrounding national identity, and was therefore retained long after

its functional utility had waned.

This general pattern was followed but with slight variation in the south-

ern African context. There is little evidence to suggest an early identification

of settler horse stock as different – and therefore superior – to metropolitan

breeds. As we have seen, Van Riebeeck criticised these first horses as too

light, and not solid like the draught horses available in the Netherlands.

Correspondingly, there were ongoing efforts to alter the indigenising equine

stock throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, with a view

towards improving the horses of the Cape, who were becoming, over time,

a phenotypical type or ‘breed’ called the ‘Cape Horse’.

This ‘Cape Horse’ was a fusion of the southeast Asian or ‘Javanese’ pony

(itself arguably of Arab-Persian stock),63 imported Persians (1689), South

American stock (1778),64 North American stock (1782), English Thorough-

breds (1792) and Spanish Barbs (1807)65 with a particularly significant

Arabian genetic influence. In 1769, the first export of horses occurred; they

were destined for Madras and initiated interest in breed-improvement (which

encouraged the importation of new breeding stock).66 Also in 1769 (and

particularly after 1795, when enthusiasm for horse-racing proliferated after



the British replaced VOC rule), the Cape-based horses diverged. One ‘breed’

to meet the needs of the racing fraternity, which used Thoroughbreds, usu-

ally a Thoroughbred sire and a colonial dam, and the other type to meet

the needs of riding, transport and cavalry (which eventually became the

‘Boerperd’ or ‘farmer’s horse’ or ‘horse of the Boers’). This ‘Boerperd’ was

variously known as the Cape pony or horse;67 Caper (the name adopted in

India for race-horses exported from the Cape); by English-speaking settlers

as the ‘Colonial’, the ‘South African’, the ‘Boer Horse’; and by Dutch-speakers

as the Hamtam (an area in which horse breeding occurred); Melck or Kotze-

horse (surnames of famous breeders); or even the Bossiekoppe (bushyheads

or ‘thickheaded’/unrefined) by those unimpressed by its points.

The ‘Cape Horse’ was phenotypically very different from English Thorough-

breds. They were small, hardy horses.68 In 1845 the first ‘scien tific’ de scrip-

tion was offered: 14.3 hands, ‘brown’, compact, short-legged, calm, well-

mannered, strong constitution, and disease resistant. For the first hundred

years, the breeding stock were primarily Southeast Asian, with admixture

from Arabian and ‘Persian’ stock, with an injection of English Thoroughbred

blood from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century. This globalised

‘breed’ was increasingly stamped as an indigenous horse, ‘belonging’ to the

Cape.

The traveller George Thompson noted, for example, ‘I had travelled

this day about 56 miles, the last 30 at full gallop on a hardy African pony,

saddled for me fresh from the pasture. This would have killed almost any

English horse, but the country breed of Cape horses is far more hardy than

ours …’.69 Lady Anne Barnard recorded her favourable impression of the

Cape horse in 1798: ‘A little more size in the breed would render the Cape

horse very good; they already have a cross of the Arabian fire and are hardy

in the greatest degree …’. Daniel van Reenen was breeding Cape horses near

the Breede River. Heinrich Lichtenstein noted that these horses were ‘so

fine, that they [were] very much sought for at the Cape as riding-horses’ and

‘[t]he Africans, besides, owing to their being accustomed from their youth to

seek their nourishment upon dry mountains are easily satisfied, and grow

so hard in the hoofs.’70

Moreover, settler riding styles replaced those of the metropole.71 This

developed during the eighteenth century, which has been argued to be the

period in which, with the decrease in settler immigration and increase in

the births of Dutch-speakers, the Cape truly ceased to be an extension of

Europe and became instead a colonial society. The trot, for example, con-

sidered ‘unnatural’, was replaced by the ambling jog discussed earlier called

a triple (or trippel or tripple), or slow gallop, making it easy to ride while

carrying a whip or gun.72 Lichtenstein commented on the ‘short gallop’



of the Cape horses, ‘very agreeable to the rider as well as to the horse …

This pace appears so natural to the race of horses in question that it is not

without some difficulty the riders can ever get them into a trot or walk.’73

In 1861, Lady Duff Gordon termed it a ‘shuffling easy canter’.74 H. Rider

Haggard makes mention that ‘he put the tired nag into a sort of “tripple”,

or ambling canter much affected by South African horses’,75 and that the

horse ‘reduced its pace proportionately, to a slow tripple, […] Anscombe

kicked the horse with his sound heel and I thumped it with my fist, thereby

persuading it to a hand gallop [canter/slow gallop]’.76

Yet, over time, the Cape Horse was seen to deteriorate. From as early

as 1800, there was growing concern about improving the Cape Horse. For

example, the English official, William Duckitt, who arrived to establish an

Agricultural Department and an experimental farm at Klapmuts, in Septem-

ber 1800, started a small stud of mares, and went ‘native’, becoming in-

creas ingly absorbed into the Dutch-speaking sector and concerning himself

with improving the quality of the Cape Horse.77 He wished to improve not

the English Thoroughbred, but rather the draught horse. His argument was

that the horses were so poor that farmers were reduced to utilising oxen for

farm work. This meant that oxen were sold for beef only when past labour,

and were therefore very tough and unpalatable.78

From 1860, breeding with inferior imported English Thoroughbred stal-

lions was widespread enough to impact negatively on the export trade.

Popular demand encouraged breeding from English Thoroughbreds, and

pedigree became paramount to the exclusion of merit.79 Speculators imported

broken-down Thoroughbreds with good pedigrees.80 These ‘blood weeds’, as

they became known, polluted the gene pool, precipitating a general decline

in stamina, size, hardiness, and sound conformation.81 Moreover, particular

horses were bred from because of the vagaries of fashion – white socks,

a blaze on the face and chestnut coats were all unpopular, for example.

Efforts towards breed improvement were further hindered by a focus solely

on the sire to the exclusion of the dam. Interestingly (as a reflection on the

gendered use of horses), particularly as good horsemanship was perceived

to be a hallmark of masculinity, stallions received special treatment. Evi-

dence is sketchy for the eighteenth century, but by the nineteenth century,

it was considered ‘undignified to ride or drive [mares]. Only Hottentots did

it.’82 The traveller Charles Thunberg noted in the late eighteenth century

that while mares and colts were expected to forage for themselves, stal-

lions were fed specially cultivated barley. Moreover, mares were perceived

as having little importance and, as it was considered undignified to ride

one, fillies were seldom broken or handled.83 Similarly, fillies were rarely

deemed worth racing. Wyndham notes similarly that in efforts towards



breed improvement the infusion of ‘good’ blood was from the stallion, as

‘any female equine was considered good enough to serve as a brood mare,

and comparatively few were imported during the first half of the nineteenth

century’.84

There was apparently little anthropomorphism surrounding the horse

as ‘personality’. In one particularly revealing incident in 1773, an official

in the service of the VOC, Wolraad Woltemade (1700–1773), endeavoured

to rescue sailors going down with a storm-damaged VOC ship. Woltemade

made seven trips to the ship, riding his horse 300 metres into the sea, saving

fourteen sailors. On his last attempt, the remaining sailors panicked, and too

many clutched the horse, dragging them all down. Significantly, the horse

was not accorded hero’s status (indeed initially neither was Woltemade),85

and the horse’s name is lost to posterity. Correspondingly there appear to

be few contemporaneous equine luminaries globally.86 However, by the time

of Dick King’s famous 1842 ride from Durban to Grahamstown (a ride of ten

days and 600 miles), the name of his horse, Somerset, grew to be well known

to the public.87 And by the late nineteenth century, certainly, there were

various southern African horses accorded celebrity status.88 It was arguably

only with the advent of the racing industry from 1796 that horses began to

acquire individual public personae in southern Africa, with race favourites

becoming known and adored by the crowds. This was further stimulated by

the rise of popular media, available more cheaply to an increasingly – albeit

slowly – literate public; and further fostered by military campaigns (for

example, 1881 and 1899–1902), which facilitated the popularising of heroes

– both human and equine. This was further stimulated by the global trend

toward popularising military heroes’ horses, particularly after Napoleon’s

‘Marengo’. A similar argument may be made for England, and, gradually,

the global context.89 This became widespread with the 1877 publication of

Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty, serving as indicator and further promoter of the

anthropomorphised horse as personality.

Race (and Class) Horses

By the late seventeenth century, the English had developed a keen interest

in horseracing, a dramatic divergence from the haute école still embraced

on the continent. This new pursuit required a new seat (or position in the

saddle) and ultimately a changed equine physiognomy. The Thoroughbred

came into being, adapted both conformationally and in terms of disposition

for galloping. The characteristic for which they have been selectively bred is

simply speed. For this they need to be leaner, of lighter build and longer-

legged (almost a retention of neotenous traits) – and more vulnerable and



less suitable for farm or draught work – than other horses. Thoroughbred

breeders drew neither on the horses of the haute école nor on those of

draught stock, but on the blood of the Barb, the Turk and the Arabian.90

As Wyndham noted, ‘[H]orse-racing will start sooner or later in any coun-

try occu pied by the British.’91 The first English Thoroughbreds were im-

ported in 1792, immediately prior to both the British Occupation and the

institution of racing.92 Although the Cape was not yet part of the British

imperial web in 1792, an increasing interest was being taken in the English

Thoroughbred, which was gaining international fame. In 1795, the year in

which the British began their first occupation of the Cape, an Agent for

the British East India Company imported more blood stock, which was

followed by importation by the wealthy Dutch-speaking sector, particularly

the horse breeders Jacobus, Sebastiaan and Dirk van Reenen.93 A racing

club, the African Turf Club, was organised and the first race meeting was

held in Cape Town in 1797.94

There were no bookmakers and each bet was an arrangement between

two independent parties. Initially, with the dearth of Thoroughbreds specific-

ally for racing and races being held only once every six months, any horse

could be utilised as a race horse: a hack, a hunter, a trap-horse. There were

few horses, so the race-going crowd was able to identify the individual

horses and, as mentioned above, had a greater personal knowledge of – and

financial stake in – the horses. The races became a diverse space, mixed in

terms of gender, class, ethnicity and race. The biannual race meetings were

significant social events, incorporating assemblies and theatre for the elite,

and drawing a varied crowd at the meeting itself. Initially, meetings were

held on open commonage, with no fence and consequently no gate money.

Burchell commented in 1810 that it was ‘amazing’ to watch

the motley crowd on foot: Malays and negroes mingled with whites, all

crowding and elbowing, eager to get a sight of the momentous contest.

But the patient Hottentot … seems to prefer a pipe of tobacco to that

which affords such exquisite gratification to his superiors. Together

with the art of making horses run fast, the science and mystery of bet-

ting has found its way to the farthest extremity of Africa; and on Green

Point large sums are said to have been won and lost.95

Lady Duff Gordon records:

[At the Greenpoint] races, … a queer-looking little Cape farmer’s horse,

ridden by a Hottentot, beat the English crack racer, ridden by a first-

rate English jockey, in an unaccountable way, twice over. The Malays are

passionately fond of horse-racing, and the crowd was fully half Malay :

there were dozens of carts crowded with the bright-eyed women , in



petticoats of every most brilliant colour, white muslin jackets, and gold

daggers in their great coils of shining black hair.96

There was a clash of horse cultures. Young subalterns, drawing on trends

from the metropole, docked horses’ tails, which infuriated Dutch locals,

who observed that the tails provided protection against flies.97 There was

no simple division between English- and Dutch-speakers over racing. More

complicatedly, there was a seam of English-speaking colonial society that

distanced itself from racing, principally because of its ties to gambling.

Governor Lord Macartney, for example, despised racing. Lady Anne Barnard

attended the first race meeting in 1797, while her husband absented himself

on the spurious grounds of official business. She was aware of the ambigu-

ities of her position – she personally disapproved, as did the governor, but

she attended in the carriage of a Dutch-speaker to emphasise her connection

to the broader population, and to show a lack of snobbery.98 However, there

is no evidence to suggest that Sir George Young, governor from December

1799, disapproved of racing. Indeed he joined the African Turf Club.

Racing initially depended heavily on the garrison (the Turf Club began

with 29 members, 20 of whom were officers in the Army or Navy, with

only a few wealthy Dutch-speaking horse breeders). There were efforts

to encourage racing enthusiasm among the Dutch sector, by organising a

‘Farmers’ Race’.99 During the period of Batavian Republic rule at the Cape,

1803–1806100, there is little evidence of racing and the African Turf Club

went into liquidation. After the second British Occupation in 1806, Dutch-

speakers participated increasingly actively as spectators at meetings. After

1807, although racing depended heavily on officers, the farming sector

(particu larly Duckitt, Melck, and the Van Reenen brothers) was progressively

more involved. The Turf Club provided the social space for the breeders

to meet and trade. Racing became increasingly popular, with race clubs

starting in Paarl (1815); Uitenhage and Stellenbosch (1816); Graaff-Reinet

(1821); Grahamstown (1823); Somerset East and Swellendam (1825). The

colonial governor, Lord Charles Somerset, was even able to counter imperial

rumblings over banning racing – because of concerns over gambling – with

the assertion that this would alienate the Dutch sector of the population.101

In 1822, for example, the Burgher Senate commented with approval on race

meetings and granted money towards a Cup, valued at 400 rixdollars.102

Class division was materially evident in the display of carriages at the race

meetings. Cowper Rose observed that one could see ‘the regular grad ation

from the well-appointed English carriage to that curious piece of antiquity

[Dutch cart] – the gig, the light wagon cart, and the long heavy wagon …

hired for the day’.103 In 1820, William Bird noted that settlers, who could not



afford a horse in England, got a boost in status as they could afford one in

the Cape.104 Burchell observed that social display formed an important part

of the events, ‘Horsemen, without number … exhibit their prancing steeds

of half Arab or English blood; although some, indeed, of their noble animals

refuse to prance without the incitement of the curb or spur.’105 Similarly,

class differentiation was marked with the vehicles acting as nuanced social

signifiers, as indicated by this comment in 1822: ‘lawyers in barouches;

the next in rank in curricles, and notaries [following] in a solitary gig. Doc-

tors turned out in chariots drawn by four greys, surgeons in barouches or

til buries [delicate two-wheeled vehicles], and an apothecary on a hack’.106

Fashion vacillated, as Wyndham observed, with fewer carriages at meetings

in the 1840s, but regaining popular appeal as a space for display by the

1880s.107

In 1810, the African Turf Club was revived and renamed the South Afri-

can Turf Club, with the arrival of Lord Charles Somerset, as Governor of the

Cape Colony, in 1814. Somerset (1767–1831) grew up in Badminton, a centre

of English equestrian sports, and was a well known figure at Newmarket. He

reorganised the Turf Club, protected the race course,108 wrested control of

the Groote Post Experimental Farm, dedicated to agricultural develop ment,

and redirected its focus to horse-breeding, in part to foster the export trade

to India, and used the racing industry as a means to improve the breed.

He used the rationale that racing was simply a means to an end, a strategy

towards improving local horses.109 This made little sense – draught and

transport horses required no Thoroughbred pedigree, indeed draught horses

would have benefited from warmblood (solid, weighty draught animal ) in-

fusions instead of Thoroughbred – and was likely a mere validation for his

personal interest in both racing and breeding Thoroughbreds. As contended

by an acerbic observer in 1820:

[a] distinguished person at the Cape is thought to have conferred a

singu lar benefit on the Colony by bringing over several thoroughbred

English horses, and disseminating a taste for racing. But it is difficult

to imagine how the interests of an infant Colony can be advanced by

the introduction of an animal perfectly useless for any purpose of

trade or [agriculture], or by rendering fashionable an expensive and

ruinous amusement.110

Horses were, however, more than just signifiers of elite status, they could

contribute towards creating elite status. There was money to be made as a

Thoroughbred breeder, which involved an elite group of male breeders from

both the Dutch- and English-speaking sectors, including the Governor.111

Indeed, Somerset relinquished his position after a scandal, in which it



appeared as though he had corruptly made a grant of land in consideration

of 10,000 rixdollars, under the guise of horse trading, and although ex oner-

ated, resigned in 1827.112

Thoroughbred breeding remained entrenched, and expanded with the ex-

pand ing racing industry, and the fashion grew during the early and mid dle

nineteenth century for horses with a ‘bloodhead’, ‘light neck’ and a ‘pedi-

gree’.113 See, for example, the figure here of Somerset on his horse with a

docked tail (in accordance with metropolitan fashion), curved ‘Arab’ neck,

and small ‘blood’ head considered desirable in an English Thoroughbred.114

Thus English Thoroughbreds bred for racing and the utilitarian work or

farm horse diverged from 1797 onwards, although there remained several

points of contact.

Figure 8.2 A View of Lord Charles Somerset (Africana Museum 66/1909).

8.2 A View of Lord Charles Somerset



Conclusion – Closing the Stable Door

Horses played a significant role in social and political processes in the early

settlement of the Cape. History was made with horse power and equally

the horses were shaped by human history, incorporating the environmental

and shifting anthropogenic needs into their genetic makeup. After their hard-

fought introduction, resisted by the metropole, horses were first used as

draught animals to effect changes in the new environment. Between 1652

and 1662, the utility of the ox was eclipsed in the Cape, particularly in

settler perceptions, by the value of the horse, which was utilised first as

symbol of power and then as draught animal.

They were also utilised by the VOC authorities as a signifier of difference,

a marker of social status. Horses were used to emphasise the difference

between native and settler, in order to facilitate the psycho-social subdu-

ing of the indigenous population. The role of the horse was predicated on

power, in both symbolic and material manifestations, and hence became

a victim of attack. Horses remained vulnerable in their new environment,

threatened by disease and environmental dangers. Unlike in the American

settler communities, the horse was not a symbol of wildness but rather of

tameness, of civilization and white settlement. There was no basis to re-

enact the subdu ing of the wilderness and the transformation from ‘nature’

to ‘culture’ that anthropologists and historians have uncovered, for example,

in the western display of rodeo.

The rising number of horses advanced economic and territorial-political

ambitions, through military means (on kommando) and through the socio-

economic control of the horse trade and racing industry. From 1797, two

distinct horse cultures emerged – one embraced the British-led racing in-

dus try, the other a more utilitarian use of horses. There followed a conflict

of horse cultures, between those who followed metropolitan fashions

and those adopting ‘indigenous’ settler modes. Moreover, the divergence

led to a morphological difference between the race horses, which were

of English Thoroughbred type, and the utilitarian horses, which came to

be con sidered a definite ‘breed’, known as the Cape Horse. Though the

latter were ini tially not accorded special status, they were later invested

with the pride of set tler society. Horses, like other livestock breeds in

Africa and Southeast Asia have developed in response to a wide range of

climates, environmental stresses, and, perhaps particularly, anthropogenic

demands.


141

The men of the tiny mountain kingdom of Lesotho define themselves

as ‘horsemen’.1 Indeed, horses are fundamental to mountain life. Horses

are used as primary transport over much of the rugged topography of

Lesotho , and in some parts used as draught animals, mainly for plough ing

the fields. The BaSotho horseman in his traditional blanket is the image

which symbolises life in the highlands. Lesotho is small (with under two

million people), landlocked, completely surrounded by South Africa, with

an his tory entwined with that of the larger country, and also that of Britain

under whose control it was until 1966. Surviving largely on subsistence

agriculture, livestock, and remittances from miners employed in South

Africa, Lesotho needs tourism as a vital income-generator. The literature

on this eco- and cultural-tourism is replete with the romance of the ponies,

used by tourists for trekking. The refrains ‘the BaSotho are a nation of

horse men’, they are ‘natural horsemen’ and their ponies are ‘integral

to the landscape’ are en trenched – apparent in the popular imagination,

repeated in advertisements and travel literature, and even represented on

their banknotes. In 1995, when Nelson Mandela paid a state visit to King

Moshoeshoe II, he received the honour of the highest order and accepted

also another gift from the king, a dappled grey stallion.2 This gift was given

as an icon of the BaSotho people, symbolising their culture and historical

identity. Aside from its still primary role in rural transport, particularly

in the highlands, the horse has seeped into cultural references, as in the

idioms: Ho ya perere (‘eat the forbidden [horse]’, to break a taboo) and

Kepèrè entso (‘he is a black horse’, he is strange, maybe dangerous). Horses

appear in some myths and have worked themselves into the cosmological

weave.3 They permeate material culture and ritual, as evidenced in, for

example, the Lechoba – bracelets of horse hair in mohobelo men’s dance

– or the popular horse races. The total Basotho Pony population in Lesotho

is estimated to be 98,000 to 112,000 animals.

The ‘Ox That Deceives’: The Meanings of the ‘Basotho Pony’ in Southern Africa

Sandra Swart

9



This chapter considers not only the material history of the horse in

this small part of what was once the British Empire, but also the social

meanings that have come to be encoded in the pony and equally how they

play themselves out in terms of ‘race’ politics. To understand its current

significance, the development of the Basotho pony must be traced, explor-

ing its anthropogenic/natural selection as well as colonial scientific breed

improvement. Secondly, we must explore the social impact of the animal

that is still used today as a symbol of (male) national identity.4

People described as ‘Sotho’ have lived in Southern Africa since the tenth

century, but by the sixteenth century, groups had arrived in the region

known now as Lesotho, intermingling with the Khoisan (Bushman) people,

and establishing small chiefdoms. Widespread trade links were forged

between the groups, as well as with external communities.5 By the early

9.1 Southern Africa

Map 9.1 Southern Africa. Source: Rev. E. Casalis, The Basutos; or Twenty-Three

Years in South Africa (London: James Nisbet, 1861).


9. The ‘Ox That Deceives’ in Southern Africa 143

nineteenth century, there was encroachment from white traders and Boer

pioneers, and communities within the territory coming to be known as

‘Basutoland’ recognised both the external threat and the internal pressure

on the environment. Simultaneously, the consolidation and expansion of the

neighbouring Zulu state precipitated a violent chain-reaction throughout

the sub-region. Those loosely organised southern Sotho groups scattered

by Zulu raids were consolidated and amalgamated by King Moshoeshoe,

who established a centralised stronghold, and initiated embryonic nation-

building.6

In 1830 another military force entered the arena occupied by the Sotho:

an amorphous ill-defined group, variously identified as the Hottentots,

Griquas, ‘Bastards’, Korannas – with an estimated two thousand men in the

field, living largely on plunder, particularly stock theft. They were mounted

on ‘good horses’, had acquired their largely ‘oriental’, or ‘southeast Asian’,

stock from neighbouring white Cape farmers and owned guns.7 Some of

the first victories over these intruders by the people coming to be called

the BaSotho were said to have occurred while a roving band was drunk. The

riders were killed and the BaSotho were said to have observed the horses

apprehensively until certain they were not the real source from which eman-

ated the explosions of cordite and pain.8 Even if this story is untrue, it is

certain that the BaSotho acquired their first horses by raiding the Kora and

Griqua from the early 1830s, and their king systematically acquired them

thereafter.9

The original SeSotho for horse is khomo-ea-haka, ‘cattle called Haka’

(Hacqua being the Khoisan name for a horse).10 There is, of course, no ‘ori-

ginal’ word in SeSotho for ‘horse’, and the word in widespread use by 1950

and in official usage today is pere, a close derivative of the Dutch/Afrikaans

word ‘perd’.

As noted, Moshoeshoe steadily procured both firearms and horses.11

Horses remained a precious and vulnerable commodity – there is evidence

to suggest that Moshoeshoe tried to suppress stock theft from 1834.12

Significant evidence of their social value lies in the fact that horses were not

private property, their resale was controlled by chiefs and supreme owner-

ship vested in the community. Horses and guns went hand-in-hand. There

was rapid widespread use among the BaSotho of the musket, dismounted

action with it being supplemented with mounted strikes using axe, knobkierie

and assegai.13 Horses and guns became part of the ritual of greeting: ‘When

within a moderate distance of the camp, the royal attendants alighted

from their steeds, fired a salute, then remounted and approached in the

rear of their king.’14 Within a few years there was a mounted force, then a

‘nation ’ of mounted men. Between 1833 and 1838, Moshoeshoe imported 200



horses, and by 1842 was able to tour with a cavalry of 200 mounted men.

Horses proved indispensable in repelling mounted raiders and there was a

rapid acquisition of stock, soon supplementing acquisition with breeding.15

By 1861 there was a significant increase; by 1875, the Census states the

BaSotho had 35,357 horses. By 1891, they had 81,194. By 1903 every male

adult was mounted, although women did not adopt the custom.16 From

1830 to 1850 imported stock was largely small ‘Cape Horses’. In the second

wave of acquisitions, from 1835 to 1840, there was predominantly similar

stock (with little Thoroughbred blood), while from 1840 to 1870 there was

a greater amount of Thoroughbred blood. Horses were not limited to mili-

tary use – by the latter half of the 1880s had ponies spread to the cultural

domain, with pony racing becoming a popular pastime.17

As the SeSotho proverb goes, ‘All countries are frontiers’: the border was

porous and the stock acquired was highly various. Imports stopped and

exportation began, so that by 1901 the export of horses accounted for 73

per cent of export market value.18 During the South Africa War (1899–1902)

between Britain and the Dutch/Boer Republics, the BaSotho sold their ponies

to British remount officers and to the Boer forces.19 These hardy ponies

proved useful: they were of small body size (14–14,2 hands) and able to

forage for themselves. This was due to anthropogenic and natural selection:

Basutoland (Lesotho) was a harsh environment.20 It would appear that the

BaSotho were good horsemen, but bad horse owners: little shelter, food

or veterinary treatment were provided and, added to that, the cold, little

forage and precipitous environment led to the development of these small,

resilient horses with their famously high endurance.

Significantly, by the early years of the twentieth century there appears

to have been a widespread consensus that the Basotho pony had enough

individuality to be classified as a ‘distinct type’.21 There were also repeated

colonial attempts to improve the breed, through government studs. There

were problems after the South African War in encouraging local use of the

government stud. It is not an isolated or unprecedented problem. There is a

tantalising whisper of early nationalist and identity politics played through

the horse as symbol, or indeed as metonym for ‘tradition’. There were

reports of ‘anti-progressive’ BaSotho raising an ‘outcry’ against the efforts

of the Government to improve the Basotho pony. They maintained that their

ponies were more suitable, more surefooted and enduring, and refused to

be part of the breeding programme, contending that they did not need

European imports – that the ‘indigenous’ was better. An official observed

the political agenda behind such agricultural programmes as inducement

for the BaSotho



to see the sense of adopting modern methods; their health and their

horseflesh – the latter, after their firearms, their most precious posses-

sions – providing most suitable targets. People who had benefited by

the white man’s medicine, had seen colts from the Government stal-

lions … were, at any rate, not indisposed to listen to what white experts

in other lines had to tell them.22

Between 1903 and 1905, the Resident Commissioner imported seven Arab

stallions and offered free stud services. Between 1907 and 1932 mainly

Thoroughbred blood was introduced.23 A mixture of Thoroughbred and Arab

studs were widely used between 1900 and 1930. By 1936, R. W. Thornton

contended that the once hardy type was utterly debased and required

saving – a process that continued sporadically under the Equine Breed

Improvement Scheme.24 By 1966 there were an estimated 90,000 horses in

Basutoland, only 10 per cent being of the so-called ‘true Basotho type’.

In 1980 the Lesotho government set up the Basotho pony centre, estab -

lish ing government-run, NGO-funded stud farms.25 Selection criteria in cluded

‘pedigree’, ‘uniformity of type’, together with materially beneficial things like

stamina, tripling ability (an ambling lope said to be inherent to ‘southeast

Asian’ stock, discussed in the previous chapter), conform ation and fertility.26

The state established a national stud farm, containing a nucleus herd allocated

to a Livestock Improvement Centre, where farmers could bring their mares

to be serviced by a ‘registered improved stallion’. Secondly, mare camps were

set up to control their breeding and prevent unwanted servicing by feral

stallions. An equine extension service was offered , focusing on aspects of

equine husbandry and nutrition. Endurance and triple racing was promoted

as a sport in lieu of simply racing. In 1984, a marketing and trekking centre

was also established to use and ‘market the Basotho Pony’.

Inventing the Basotho Pony

Yet, the Basotho pony has no written stud-books and no written pedigrees.

Although, internationally, it is much better known than any other Southern

African ‘breed’, arguably because of its involvement in the remount trade,

there is no historical record of its breeding. This raises questions of auto-

chthony and the creation of historical myth or the ‘invention of tradition’.

Does the Basotho pony exist? What does it mean to say it existed? If between

1870–1890 (its numerical zenith and the high point of its popularity) and

1902 (when the authorities discovered the need to save it), a ‘breed’ existed

(or at least, a particular morphological type), why would one wish to preserve

it like a fossil in the amber of that historical moment? Moreover, it must

be further asked which admixtures are acceptable: what is the difference



between breed improvement and breed submerging? Equally, there is an

internal contradiction. In essence the historical success and survival of the

pony type which it is desirable to ‘save’ is the one that developed over time

to be best suited to its environment. However, now there is an insistence

on changing previous breeding regimes and a requirement of centralised

anthropogenic intervention in order to maintain artificially – indeed, ‘bring

back’ and then ‘preserve’ – this breed. Why did the natural environment

cease producing the kind of stock required?

As discussed in the introduction to this book, the term ‘breed’ is hard

to define. A ‘breed’ may be understood as a group of animals that, through

selection, have come to resemble one another and pass their qualities to

their offspring. All this means is that a breed is a population that com-

plies to ancestry. So a ‘purebred’ animal belongs to an identifiable breed

complying with prescribed traits – origin, appearance, and minimum breed

standards. As Lush has contended in The Genetics of Populations the term is

both elusive and subjective:

[a] breed is a group of domestic animals, termed such by common con -

sent of the breeders … a term which arose among breeders of livestock,

created one might say, for their own use, and no one is warranted in

9.1 Photograph from the Remount Commission, Basotho Pony, c. 1902

Figure 9.1 Photograph from the Remount Commission, Basotho Pony, c. 1902.27



assign ing to this word a scientific definition and in calling the breeders

wrong when they deviate from the formulate definition.28

So the point at which a collection of animals becomes a ‘breed’ is a human

decision – not a genetic event.29 This has obvious parallels with human races

and their classifications; biological variability exists but it does not conform

to racial categories developed by society, largely from the eighteenth century

and linked to imperial notions of rule. The reliance on race as a biological

concept serves a powerful politico-social purpose by creating an immutable

difference between peoples. It is widely accepted that human ‘races’ are

far from natural and are in fact socially produced and shifting, but animal

breeds are often a safe realm for those narratives on to which conceptions

of human difference such as hierarchy, gender, class, and national character

are mapped. Humans cannot be classified accur ately into clearly delineated

and biologically distinct groups. Particular phenotypic traits are emphasised

in typecasting individuals along public views of ‘race’, a practice which

provides little practical information. This is not to state, of course, that

there is no biological variation between different populations of people – or

indeed horses – just that the biological dis tinctions are much more opaque

than contained in common ideas of ‘race’.30 In the horse world it is simple to

form a ‘breed’: all one needs is paperwork. One registers the ‘breed’ with the

appropriate authorities and promulgates a breed standard. One does not

need a lawyer, a threshold number, genetic material or even a horse.

There is also another complication to the colonial history of this idea

of ‘breed’ which opens a further dimension of the politics and paradoxes

of animal breeding. In 1950, a committee was set up by the South African

Secretary for Agriculture, Dr C. H. Neveling, to investigate indigenous breeds

of sheep, cattle, goats and so on that were of interest to Afrikaner culture

brokers. This was catalysed by a 1949 letter from a far-flung extension offi-

cer, A.W. Lategan, on a distant isolated station in the Northern Cape, who

pointed out that, while there was much effort towards soil conservation,

indigenous animals well adapted to local conditions were disappearing.31

The Department of Agriculture subsequently bought twelve representative

horses, interestingly not from Lesotho, but from the Orange Free State, and

established a breeding station at Nooitgedacht in Ermelo (Mpumalanga) to

‘preserve the Basotho pony’ and to develop a utility riding horse.32 It was

called the ‘Nooitgedacht’ pony ostensibly because of the breeders’ admix ture

of Cape Horse/Boerperd and Arab blood to the Basotho base. One may ques-

tion this rationale, as the Basotho pony was itself developed from Arab and

Cape Horse/Boerperd amalgamation. Perhaps a more likely reason was that

the South African horse market of the time was reluctant to acquire ‘native ’



stock. A studbook was kept open for females who passed a phenotypic

inspection (small Boerperd or Arab). Interestingly, the breeders permitted

admixture from Afrikaner breeds, but specifically no British pony breeds

were allowed. In 1969 the Breed Society was founded (and changed the name

from ‘pony’ to ‘horse’ for commercial reasons) with a preference for greys

(a trait not linked to Basotho ponies). In 1976, the South African Studbook

recognised the Nooitgedacht (invented a mere 24 years before) as its first

indigenous breed and sold it at public auctions and gave stock to preserve

to the Universities of Pretoria and Stellenbosch. The horses are celebrated

as indigenous and autochthonous: ‘Thanks to the continued dedication of

the breeders, the future of the Nooitgedachter breed is secure. South Africa

can justly be proud of this noble and loyal horse’,33 and is part of a ‘proud

South African heritage’.34 The Nooitgedacht Horse Breeders’ Society states:

After more than forty years of scientific breeding, dedication and preser-

vation, the Nooitgedachter is one of South Africa’s truly in digen ous

horse breeds, descended from the original Cape horse. Probably one of

the rarest horse breeds in the world, it is the worthy descendant of the

Basotho pony, a symbol of tradition and a proud heritage for future

generations.35

This may be analysed in terms of ‘hybridity’, a term linked with both creol-

isation and liminality, with the crossovers of identities generated by colonial-

ism.36 Young reminds us that the hybrid is technically a cross between two

different species and that therefore the term hybridisation evokes both the

notion of inter-species grafting and the ‘vocabulary of the Victorian extreme

right’, which regarded different races as different species .37 However, in

post-colonial theory, hybridity is intended to suggest all those ways in

which this vocabulary was challenged. Even as imperial and racist ideologies

insist on racial difference, they catalyse crossovers, partly because not all

that happens in the contact zones can be con trolled, but occasionally also

as a result of deliberate colonial policy. Examples of calculated (colonial)

policy used to manipulate cultural outcomes by the means of hybridisation

include the ‘colonial education policies which aimed to create Europeanised

natives, or to use Macaulay’s words, a class of persons, Indian in blood and

colour, but English in taste, in opinion, in morals and intellect’.38 Similarly,

it may be argued that the Nooitgedacht was Basotho in body, Afrikaans in

identity.

The breed debate reflects the politics of autochthony and the invention

of what is ‘traditional’. At the turn of the twentieth century, the debate

pivoted around the need to import horses to improve the debased, small,

degenerate colonial stock. By the mid century mark, and escalating to a peak



in 1980, it revolved around the need to preserve or even revive the proud,

autochthonous colonial horse for reasons bound up in sentiment, history,

nostalgia, heritage, and commerce. This perceived need was so great that

NGOs and government funding was directed into programmes in Lesotho,

while at the same time an entirely new ‘breed’ was invented in South Africa

in order to preserve the ‘heritage’ of the Basotho pony. The body of the

horse acted as a site of struggle in the protection of national identity and

the production of cultural difference.

There is a massive capital invested in the animal breeding industry.

Both breeders and the resultant service industries benefit from the public’s

enthusiasm for ‘purebred’ animals, preferably registered. There are several

parallels to the southern African context in other post-colonial situations,

where animals are used as socio-cultural vehicles to promote a sense of

self-respect, or – inversely – current cultural ideology is used to market

formerly low-priced livestock.39

Conclusion

Like the colonisers themselves, the equine ‘invaders’ were the agents of

substantial and enduring changes, in both societal and environmental dimen-

sions. The imperial exchange meant a two-way transformation: in modifying

the landscapes, the horse itself underwent a morphological transform ation

and its function within human society also altered significantly. The horses

of empire are bound, connected by blood, history and styles of horseman-

ship. Southeast Asia and southern Africa are linked together by a common

equine heritage: the horse of the Dutch empire in southeast Asia – the

Sumbawan, ‘Javanese’ or ‘oriental’ stock were transported to the Cape in

southern Africa; the stock spread into Basutoland, and horses from both

Basutoland and the Cape were relocated to Australia and elsewhere within

the Imperial network. War and trade are great diffusers of genotypes. Im-

perial and later colonial concerns also had unintended effects on trends in

demography and disease – both animal and human – and they influenced

the way people conceived of elements of nature, such as horses. Equids

were pivotal in the economies and societies of the nineteenth century Indian

Ocean and South China Sea, crucial in war, trade, transport and leisure.

Looking to imperial history and its ecological disruptions, and focusing

explicitly on the ma terial contexts of the violence (both physical and figura-

tive) that is connected to the extraction of resources and the alteration of

the natural environment, helps explain a process of the establishment of

European hegemony in the modern world.40 What is important for histor-

ians to emphasise is the heterogeneity of response: how different native



societies within the imperial or colonial network adopted – and adapted to

– the horse in very different ways. For example, from the time the Sotho

overcame socio-political and economic hurdles and acquired the first horse,

the ‘ox that deceives’, in 1825, they re-invented themselves as an equine

society. Horses were not the private property of individuals but rather

national assets, with ultimate possession vested in the community. Within

a mere two decades, they had transformed Sotho material culture, defence

capability, gender relations and social structure. The very sense of what it

meant to be an adult Basotho male was transformed: they were horsemen.

Being deeply embedded in identity politics, equine issues prompted both

pride and anxiety.

Declension, or the notion that circumstances are in constant decay, is a

prevailing trope in environmental history. Does the history of the horse – even

in this circumscribed telling – perhaps offer a new, less declen sionist way

of thinking about ‘invasive’ species? There were efforts to contain the horse

within the metropolitan grasp – but the horse could not be kept in check.

Moreover, although there was a great deal of effort thrown into scientific

colonial breed improvement, and ongoing concern over ‘de terior ation’ of

type, there was also in several cases the rise of ‘indigenous’ var ieties, invested

with the pride of settler or native society. The Basotho pony has become a

corporeal icon of nationhood, and, as such, has become embedded in the

politics of identity politics and invented traditions. Horses even served to

represent an early attempt at liberation from the colonial metropole in the

resistance to foreign stallions being used as studs. Perhaps then the horse is

not merely an instrument of ecological imperialism, as Crosby suggests, but

also of ecological resistance?


EPILOGUE


153

The horse may seem the least likely of all animals to be the subject of histor-

ical ‘othering’ given its close and enduring relationship to human ity. While

its central role has received some attention in European history writing to

the extent that the development of feudalism has even been traced to the

invention of the horse-stirrup, ‘equine orientalism’ persists in the non-west-

ern-world, familiarity breeding if not contempt then at least neglect.1 Non-

western societies may have received increasing attention in recent decades,

reflecting not only a greater awareness of the importance in understanding

the wider historical experience of the majority of the world’s population

but also a shift in the locus of gravity away from the North to the East

and South, but still very little scholarship aims at exploring inter-regional

perspectives outside of the European and North American context. The

norm is still very much a focus on intra-metropole or metropole-colonial

relationships, ensuring that modern historiography ‘continues to run along

channels excavated by colonial discourse’.2

These historiographical channels perpetuate the orientalisation of animals

in disallowing non-human creatures their own history. Horses appear as

objects to be fought over by people, as instruments to help conquer people

and lands, essentially as backdrops or props in the unfolding human drama.

This trend has a parallel in the historiography of human social relations.

Historians of the world in 1400, on the brink of European expansion, have

now critiqued the way the metropolitan-peripheral dichotomy has been set

up by previous scholars. Recent studies have sought to show instead that

the expansion of European societies not only affected the colonised, but

also dramatically altered those European societies themselves. For example,

Eric Wolf’s The People Without History adopted the Marx and Engels phrase

to convey a deep irony. The phrase refers to those peoples who lack a for-

mally written articulation of their histories, and caustically suggests that

quite the reverse was true: that the peoples encountered by the European

‘Together yet Apart’:

Towards a Horse-story Greg Bankoff and Sandra Swart

10



metropolitans’ expansionist projects were actually characterised by their

own long and complex histories, and, moreover, were generally not isolated

but interconnected. A similar irony might pervade future writings on horses

and humans. Equally, by emphasising a common past, less anthropocentric

studies could escape the polarities of human and horse, just as Wolf has

urged for the false binary of active ‘white’ centre and passive ‘non-white’

periphery. The horse, of course, has its own history quite apart from that

of humanity though the two have run along parallel and converging lines

since its domestication some five thousand years ago.3 There is no denying

the increasing centrality of this relationship but neither should it obscure

the separateness of equine history: it is a reciprocal partnership though one

where the terms of exchange favour human over equid much as they do in

any patron–client relationship. The difficulty is just as much how to express

this ‘together yet apart’ as it is to counter Erica Fudge’s ‘present yet absent’

in history.

By focusing on the horse in the Indonesian archipelago and Thailand,

however, and its expansion into the Philippines and southern Africa, another

trajectory starts to suggest itself. This scrutiny circumvents the distorting

mirror of imperial historiography, and draws the eye instead to South–South

comparisons, while seeing the role of the metropole more realistically.

These regions may have been brought into greater economic, cultural and

biological proximity quite inadvertently in the early modern period as a

result of the colonial venture but the genetic transfer of equine genes and

phenotypes binds their subsequent histories together much as in studies

of the Irish or Jewish diasporas. A number of intriguing paths of study

present themselves: What different effects did the introduction of the horse

have on existing ecosystems? How did the horse adapt relative to its new

environment? In what ways did the horse interact with indigenous human

cultures? Were these distinct from the way ‘colonial’ societies evolved? The

present study begins to address only some of these questions. It hints at the

outline of a more species-centric history to counterpoise against that of the

prevalent anthropocentric one: a horse-story to lie alongside that of a her-

story or a his-story. It also contributes to a wider sense of colonial narrative,

a more inclusive form of historiography that explains many historical events

in terms of the ‘biotic interactions’ between people, animals and land.4


155

Chapter 1. Breeds of Empire and the ‘Invention’ of the Horse


1 Nicholas Russell, Like Engend’ring Like: Heredity and Animal Breeding in

Early Modern England, London: Cambridge University Press, 1986, p. 23.

2 M. S. Drewer, ‘The Domestication of the Horse’. In Peter Ucko and George

Dimbleby (eds), The Domestication and Exploitation of Plants and Animals,

London: Duckworth, 1969, pp. 471–478; and Robin Law, The Horse in West

African History: The Role of the Horse in the Societies of Pre-colonial West

Africa, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980, pp. 1–3.

3 Despite the animal’s initial evolution in the Americas, the horse had become

extinct there some 13,000 years ago and was not reintroduced until the ar-

rival of the Spaniards in the late fifteen and early sixteenth centuries. Tim

Flannery, The Eternal Frontier: An Ecological History of North America and Its

Peoples, London: William Heinemann, 2001, pp. 111–112, 293–296. The first

horse to set foot in the Americas was carried on Christopher Columbus’s

second voyage and arrived on the Caribbean island of Hispañola in 1493.

Hernan Cortés subsequently took 15 with him on his conquest of Mexico

in 1519. On horses in America, see Virginia DeJohn Anderson, Creatures

of Empire: How Domestic Animals Transformed Early America, New York:

Oxford University Press, 2004; and in Australia, see Alexander T. Yarwood,

Walers: Australian Horses Abroad, Melbourne: Melbourne University Press,

1989.

4 On historical methods of horse breeding, see Russell, Like Engend’ring Like,

1986, pp. 58–121; and on modern breeding efforts, see Margaret Derry, Bred

for Perfection: Shorthorn Cattle, Collies, and Arabian Horses since 1800, Balti-

more: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003; and Tim Birkhead, A Brand-New

Bird: How Two Amateur Scientists Created the First Genetically Engineered

Animal, New York: Basic Books, 2003.

5 Alfred Crosby, The Columbian Exchange: Biological Consequences of 1492,

Westport: Greenwoods, 1972.

6 Claude Lévi-Strauss, Totemism, Boston: Beacon Press, 1963, p. 89.

Notes



7 Alfred Crosby, Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of Europe,

900–1900, New York: Cambridge University Press, 1986, p. 194.

8 For an ovine comparison, or the ‘ungulate irruption’, see Elinor Melville, A

Plague of Sheep: Environmental Consequences of the Conquest of Mexico,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994.

9 It has also been referred to as the ‘animal turn’ or ‘animal studies’. There

are currently at least four major journals that publish in the field of animal-

related topics: Anthrozöos, Animal Welfare, Journal of Animal Ecology and

Society and Animals. There is also a growing literature on animal histories

like Harriet Ritvo, The Animal Estate: The English and Other Creatures in

the Victorian Age, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1987, as well as

such ‘standards’ like Keith Thomas, Man and the Natural World, New York:

Pantheon Books, 1983 and James Serpell, In the Company of Animals: A

study of Human–Animal Relationships, Oxford: Blackwell, 1986.

10 See, for example, conferences like ‘Animals in History and Culture’ at Bath

Spa University College, 2000; ‘Representing Animals’ at the University

of Wis consin–Milwaukee, 2000; ‘Thresholds of Identity in Human–Animal

Relation ships’ at the University of California, 2000; and ‘Millennial Animals:

Theorising and Understanding the Importance of Animals’ at the University of

Sheffield, 2000.

11 See, for example, Jonathan Burt, Animals in Film, London: Reaktion Books,

2002; Eileen Crist, Images of Animals: Anthropomorphism and Animal Mind,

Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999; Ritvo, The Animal Estate, 1987;

Nigel Rothfels (ed.), Representing Animals, Bloomington: University of Indi-

ana Press, 2003; Chris Philo and Chris Wilbert (eds), Animal Spaces, Beastly

Places: New Geographies of Human–Animal Relations, London: Routledge,

2000.

12 Chris Philo, ‘Through the Geographical Looking Glass: Space, Place, and

Society–Animal Relations’, Society and Animals, vol. 6, no. 2, 1998. See also

see Harriet Ritvo, ‘History and Animal Studies’, Society and Animals, vol.

10, 2002, pp. 403–406; Steve Baker, Picturing the Beast: Animals, Identity

and Representation, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993; Adrian

Franklin, Animals and Modern Cultures: A Sociology of Human–Animal Re-

lations in Modernity, London: Sage, 1999; Mary Henninger-Voss, Animals in

Human Histories: The Mirror of Nature and Culture, Rochester: University of

Rochester Press, 2002; Kathleen Kete, The Beast in the Boudoir: Pet-keeping

in Nineteenth Century Paris, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994;

Aubrey Manning and James Serpell, Animals and Human Society, Changing

Perspectives, London: Routledge, 1994; Robert Mitchell, Nicholas Thompson

and H. Lyn Miles (eds) Anthropomorphism, Anecdotes and Animals, Albany:

State University of New York Press, 1997; Ritvo, The Animal Estate, 1987;

Joyce Salisbury, The Beast Within: Animals in the Middle Ages, New York:


Notes 157

Routledge, 1986; Serpell, In the Company of Animals, 1986; Joanna Swabe,

Animals, Disease and Human Society: Human–Animal Relations and the Rise

of Veterinary Medicine, London: Routledge, 1999; Thomas, Man and the

Natural World, 1983; Yi-Fu Tuan, Dominance and Affection: The Making of

Pets, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984; and Roy Willis (ed.), Signifying

Animals: Human Meaning in the Natural World, London: Routledge, 1990.

13 Anderson, ‘A Walk on the Wild Side:’ 1997, pp. 463–485; Charles Bennett,

‘Cultural Animal Geography: An Inviting Field of Research’, Professional Geog-

rapher, vol. 12, no. 5, 1960, pp. 12–14; and Jennifer Wolch, and Jody Emel

(eds), Animal Geographies: Place, Politics and Identity in the Nature–Culture

Borderlands, London: Verso, 1998.

14 See the discussion by R. Yarwood, N. Evans, and J. Higginbottom, ‘The Con-

temporary Geography of Indigenous Irish Livestock’, Irish Geography, vol.

30, 1997, pp. 17–30, especially p. 17.

15 Wolch and Emel, Animal Geographies, 1998, p. xi.

16 Historical works such as Juliet Clutton-Brock, A Natural History of Do mesti-

cated Mammals, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989 and Russell,

Like Engend’ring Like, 1986 offer clear, scientifically informed accounts of

complex processes and relationships.

17 Some historians have used animal artefacts to reconstruct pet-keeping re-

lations. See: Nancy Carlile, ‘The Chewed Chair Leg and the Empty Collar:

Mementos of Pet Ownership in New England’, Dublin Seminar for New Eng-

land Folklife Annual Proceedings, vol. 18, 1993, pp. 130–146; and Neil Dana

Glukin ‘Pet Birds and Cages of the 18th Century’, Early American Life, vol. 8,

1977, pp. 38–41, 59.

18 See, for example, Nicolas Rupke (ed.), Vivisection in Historical Perspective,

London: Routledge, 1987; and Richard French, Antivivisection and Medical

Science in Victorian Society, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975.

19 Susan Jones, Valuing Animals: Veterinarians and Their Patients in Modern

America, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003. For further re-

flections on this topic, see Ritvo, ‘History and Animal Studies’, 2002, pp.

403–406. This issue of Society and Animals also includes essays on the

relation of animal studies to other disciplines in the humanities and social

sciences. See also the conference on ‘The Chicken: Its Biological, Social,

Cultural, and Industrial History, from the Neolithic Middens to McNuggets’

sponsored by the Yale Program in Agrarian Studies in 2002.

20 Wolch and Emel, Animal Geographies, 1998, p. xi.

21 This position is not without critique. Many critics dismiss animal activism

as a further commodification of animals rather than a break from it. See

Neil Smith, ‘The Production of Nature’. In George Robertson, Melinda Mash,

Lisa Tickner, Jon Bird, Barry Curtis, and Tim Putnam (eds), Future Natural



Nature/Science/Culture, London and New York: Routledge, 1996, pp. 35–54;

and Wolch and Emel, Animal Geographies, 1998, p. xii. Equally, many of

those on the left fear that the concern may in fact be premised on a return

to pre-modern ‘animistic’ beliefs.

22 Baker, Picturing the Beast, 2001, p. xvi. Although, he adds, animals them-

selves cannot be discussed, only their representations.

23 Molly Mullin, ‘Mirrors and Windows: Sociocultural Studies of Human–Animal

Relationships’, Annual Review of Anthropology, vol. 28, 1999, pp. 201–224.

24 Barbra Noske, Humans and Other Animals: Beyond the Boundaries of Anthro-

pology, Pluto Press, 1989; A. N. Rowan, ‘The Human–Animal Interface: Chasm

or Continuum?’ In Michael Robinson and Lionel Tiger (eds), Man and Beast

Revisited, Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1991.

25 Peter Boomgaard, Frontiers of Fear: Tigers and People in the Malay World

1600–1950, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001.

26 For examples of integrated texts on a macro-level, see William McNeill and

John R. McNeill, The Human Web: A Bird’s-Eye View of World History, New York:

W.W. Norton, 2003; Crosby, Ecological Imperialism, 1986; and Jared Diamond,

Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies, New York: W.W. Norton,

1997. For pioneer texts on micro-level, see James Turner, Reckoning with the

Beast: Animals, Pain and Humanity in the Victorian Mind, Baltimore: John

Hopkins University Press, 1980; Thomas, Man and the Nat ural World, 1983;

Ritvo The Animal Estate, 1987; and Kete, The Beast in the Boudoir, 1994.

27 Wolch and Emel, Animal Geographies, 1998, p. xvii.

28 Roy Willis, Man and Beast, New York: Basic Books, 1974; and Claude Lévi-

Strauss, The Savage Mind, Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1967.

29 Paul Shepard, The Others: How Animals Made Us Human, Washington, D.C.:

Island Press, 1995.

30 Chris Philo, ‘Animals, Geography, and the City: Notes on Inclusions and

Exclusions’. In Wolch and Emel, Animal Geographies, 1998, pp. 51–71.

31 Kay Anderson, ‘Animals, Science, and Spectacle in the City’. In Wolch, and

Emel, Animal Geographies, 1998, pp. 27–50.

32 Jody Emel, ‘Are You Man Enough, Big and Bad Enough? Wolf Eradication in

the US’. In Wolch and Emel, Animal Geographies, 1998, pp. 91–116.

33 Raymond Firth, Elements of Social Organization, London: Watts, 1951; J.

Berger, “Animal World”, New Society, 1971, p. 1043; Mary Douglas, ‘De cipher-

ing A Meal’. In Clifford Geertz (ed.), Myth, Symbol and Culture, New York: W.

W. Norton, 1971; Clifford Geertz, ‘Deep Play Notes on the Balinese Cockfight’.

In Clifford Geertz (ed.), Myth, Symbol and Culture, 1971, p. 138; Joseph Klaits

and Barrie Klaits (eds) Animals and Man in Historical Per spective. New York:

Harper & Row, 1974.


Notes 159

34 A model example is Marvin Harris’s ecological explanation of the sacred

cows of the Hindu. His point is that any large human population will always

make sure it gets as much energy as possible out of the technological and

eco logical situation in which it is placed. Religions and ideologies are adap-

tations to the techno-ecological system’s needs. In this manner the practice

of the sacred cows of the Hindu is not irrational because the energetic advan-

tage of using the cows as draught animals, using their dung as fuel and

fertilisers and consuming the milk, is bigger than butchering them for food.

Marvin Harris, ‘The Myth of the Sacred Cow’, Man, Culture and Animals,

1965, p. 225.

35 Claude Lévi-Strauss, The Savage Mind, 1966, p. 104. Another influential

structuralist or symbolic approach is found in an influential work by Edmund

Leach (1964) where he connected the use of animals in insults to dietary and

sexual prohibitions. For instance the pig is used frequently in verbal abuse:

‘You swine! You filthy pig!’ Pigs are used in insults like these, suggests

Leach, because there is a certain guilt connected to our use of pigs: we rear

them for the sole purpose of eating them (while sheep provide wool, cows

milk, etc.). This is a rather shameful thing, a shame that quickly attaches

to the pig itself. Edmund Leach, ‘Anthropological Aspects of Language:

Animal Categories and Verbal Abuse’, in E. Lenneberg (ed), New Directions

in the Study of Language, Boston: MIT Press, 1964.

36 Harriet Ritvo, ‘Animal Planet’, Environmental History, vol. 9, no. 2, 2004, p.

204.

37 Erica Fudge, Perceiving Animals: Humans and Beasts in Early Modern English

Culture, Basingstoke: Macmillan Press, 2000, p.3.

38 Edward Said, Orientalism, New York: Pantheon Books, 1978.

39 Bernard Williams, ‘Prologue: Making Sense of Humanity’. In James Sheehan

and Morton Sosna (ed.), The Boundaries of Humanity: Humans, Animals,

Machines, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1991,

pp. 13–23; and Jack Goody, The Power of Written Tradition, Washington:

Smithsonian Institute Press, 2000. According to the French philosopher René

Descartes, animals are confined by instinctual sensations that are purely

bodily or mechanical in nature and are not ones made in consciousness or

embodied by the intellect. Mary Midgley, Animals and Why They Matter,

Athens: Georgia University Press, 1984.

40 Jeffrey Mason and Susan McCarthy, When Elephants Weep: The Emotional

Lives of Animals, New York: Delta, 1995, pp. 32–35.

41 Post-modernists do not deny that history has narrative: only that the narra-

tive should be singular. On narrative and history, see William Cronon, ‘A

Place for Stories: Nature, History, and Narrative’, Journal of American His-

tory, vol. 78, no. 2, 1992, pp. 1347–1376; and Hayden White, The Content



of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation, Baltimore:

Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987.

42 Charles Darwin, The Expression of the Emotions of Man and Animals, London:

Murray, 1872.

43 George Romanes, Animal Intelligence, New York: Appleton, 1882; and George

Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals, London: Kegan, Paul, Trench, 1883.

44 Edward Thorndike, ‘Animal Intelligence: An Experimental Study of the Associa -

tive Processes in Animals’, Psychological Monographs, vol. 2, no. 4 and 8,

1898; and Edward Thorndike, Animal Intelligence: Experimental Stud ies, New

York: Macmillan, 1911.

45 J. Stam Henderikus and Tanya Kalmanovitch, ‘E. L. Thorndike and the Origins

of Animal Psychology; On the Nature of the Animal in Psychology’, American

Psychologist, vol. 53, no. 10, 1998, pp. 1138–1142.

46 Roger Lewin, ‘I Buzz Therefore I Think’, New Scientist, 15 January, 1994, p.3;

and Masson and McCarthy, When Elephants Weep, 1995.

47 The late John Kennedy, professor of animal behaviour at Imperial College,

London, maintained that no matter how adaptive or complex an animal’s

action may appear, it was still the result of the power of natural selection to

optimise behaviour and was not proof of its consciousness. John Kennedy,

The New Anthropomorphism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992.

48 Marian Dawkins, Through Our Eyes Only? The Search for Animal Con scious-

ness, Oxford: W. H. Freeman Spektrum, 1993, p. 14. The focus of her work is

mainly on chickens.

49 Shelia Rowbotham, Hidden from History: 300 Years of Women’s Oppression

and the Fight Against It, London: Pluto Press, 1973.

50 Such ideological strictures on women were never fully accepted and women

have struggled in many western societies ‘to overturn their identification

with the home as conceived of as a space of privacy, stasis, tradition and

connectedness’. Kay Anderson, ‘A Walk on the Wild Side’, 1997, p. 476.

51 Gisela Blok, ‘Challenging Dichotomies: Perspectives on Women’s History’. In

Karen Offen, Ruth Roach Pierson and Jane Rendall (eds), Writing Women’s

History, International Perspectives, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan, 1991,

p. 2.

52 Joan Kelly, Women, History and Theory: The Essays of Joan Kelly, Chicago

and London: University of Chicago Press, 1984, p. 1. The essay was first

published in Signs, The Journal of Women in Culture and Society, vol. 1, no.

4, 1976, pp. 809–823.

53 Donna Haraway, Primate Visions: Gender, Race, and Nature in the World of

Modern Science, New York and London: Routledge, 1989, pp. 10–13. Hara-

way’s argument is concerned with primates but applies to a lesser extent


Notes 161

to other animals. On the animal–human divide, see Lévi-Strauss, Totemism,

1963 on totemism; Rane Willerslev, ‘Not Animal, Not Not-Animal: Hunting,

Imitation and Empathetic Knowledge among the Siberian Yukaghirs’, Journal

of the Royal Anthropological Institute, vol. 10, 2004, pp. 629–652 on hunting;

and Eduardo Viveiros de Castro, From the Enemy’s Point of View: Humanity

and Divinity in an Amazonian Society, Chicago: University of Chicago Press,

1992 on cannibalism.

54 Joan Thirsk, Horses in Early Modern England For Service, For Pleasure, For

Power, Reading: University of Reading, 1978; Robert Delort, Les Animaux

ont une Histoire, Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1984; Thomas, Man and the Nat-

ural World, 1984; Crosby, Ecological Imperialism, 1986; Ritvo, The Animal

Estate, 1987; and Robert Malcolmson and Stephanos Mastoris, The English

Pig: A History, London and Rio Grande: Hambledon Press, 1998. The term

neo-Europe is used after the manner employed by Alfred Crosby to signify

the settler societies of North America, South America and Australasia. The

South African case is more ambivalent. On South Africa, see John Richards,

The Unending Frontier: An Environmental History of the Early Modern World,

Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003, pp. 274–306.

55 Briton Busch, War Against the Seals: A History of the North-American Seal

Fishery, Kingston and Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1985; Arthur

McEvoy, The Fisherman’s Problem: Ecology and the Law in the California

Fisheries 1850–1980, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986; Ritvo,

The Animal Estate, 1987, pp. 205–88; Matt Cartmill, A View to a Death in

the Morning: Hunting and Nature through History, Cambridge: Harvard Uni-

versity Press, 1993; Andrew Isenberg, The Destruction of the Bison, Cam bridge:

Cambridge University Press, 2000; and Nigel Rothfels, Savages and Beasts:

The Birth of the Modern Zoo, Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University

Press, 2002.

56 Richard Bulliet, The Camel and the Wheel, Cambridge: Harvard Uni versity Press,

1975; Law, The Horse in West African History, 1980; Boomgaard, Fron tiers of

Fear, 2001; Lance van Sittert and Sandra Swart (eds), ‘Canis Familiaris – A Dog

History of South Africa’, South African Historical Journal, vol. 48, 2003, pp.

138–251; and John Knight (ed.), Wildlife in Asia: Cultural Per spectives, London

and New York: Routledge Curzon, 2004. Tim Ingold’s work on reindeer

ranching in Lapland, which though geographically part of Europe is atypical

of the region, ranges more widely across the Arctic tundra and taiga. Tim

Ingold, Hunters, Pastoralists and Ranchers: Reindeer Economies and Their

Transformations, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980. See also Olga

Crisp’s study on the labour demand for horses on an estate in Central Russia

in the late nineteenth century (1983). Olga Crisp, ‘Horses and Management of

a Large Agricultural Estate in Russia at the End of the Nineteenth Century’. In

Francis Thompson (ed.), Horses in European Economic History: A Preliminary



Canter, Reading: The British Agricultural History Society, 1983, pp. 156–176.

These lists, of course, are far from all inclusive.

57 Crosby, The Columbian Exchange, 1972.

58 Flannery, The Eternal Frontier, 2001.

59 Hans Zinsser, Rats, Lice, and History: Being a Study in Biography, which, after

Twelve Preliminary Chapters Indispensable for the Preparation of the Lay

Reader, Deals with the Life History of Typhus Fever, London: Papermac, 1963

(first published 1935), p. 201.

60 Crosby, The Columbian Exchange, 1972; and Crosby, Ecological Imperialism,

1986.

61 Melville, A Plague of Sheep, 1994.

62 Ibid., pp. 6–7.

63 Ritvo, The Animal Estate, 1987, p. 4.

64 John Berger, ‘Why look at animals?’ In John Berger, About Looking, New York:

Pantheon Books, 1980, p. 2.

65 See, for example, Steve Baker, Picturing the Beast, 2001.

66 For accounts of early breeding, see Russell, Like Engend’ring Like, 1986;

Harriet Ritvo, ‘Possessing Mother Nature: Genetic Capital in 18th-Century

Britain’. In Susan Staves and John Brewer (eds), Early Modern Conceptions

of Property, London: Routledge, 1994, pp. 413–426; and Ritvo, The Animal

Estate, 1987, Chapter 2. Also, see fn. 4 above.

67 Jay L. Lush, The Genetics of Populations, Ames: Iowa Agriculture and Home

Economics Experiment Station, College of Agriculture, Iowa State University,

1994.

68 Clutton-Brock, A Natural History of Domesticated Mammals, 1989.

69 Jared Diamond, Guns, Germs and Steel, 1997, p. 159.

70 For an extended discussion see Harriet Ritvo, The Platypus and the Mermaid,

and Other Figments of the Classifying Imagination, Cambridge: Harvard Uni-

versity Press, 1997.

71 When horse racing became organised through the newly formed Jockey Club

(established 1752), a flood of equine portraits resulted, which increased

with the arrival of artists like George Stubbs and Sawrey Gilpin. There was

a popular demand by the affluent to be painted with his favorite hunter or

race horse.

72 Ritvo, The Animal Estate, 1987, pp. 1–3.

73 Donna Landry, ‘The Bloody Shouldered Arabian and Early Modern English

Culture’. Criticism, Winter, 2004.

74 However, ‘blood tells’ remains a popular idea in the racing world even today,

applicable to people as well as horses. See Rebecca Cassidy, The Sport of


Notes 163

Kings: Kinship, Class and Thoroughbred Breeding in Newmarket, Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press, 2002, pp. 140–160.

75 Joan Thirsk (ed.), The Agrarian History of England and Wales, Volume VII,

1640–1750: Agrarian Change, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985,

p. 578.

76 Peter Edwards, The Horse Trade of Tudor and Stuart England, Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press, 1988, p. 51.

77 Thirsk, Horses in Early Modern England, 1978, p. 578.

78 Swart, Chapter 8, this volume.

79 Works on horses are few. See Bernice de Jong Boers ‘Paardenfokkerij op

Sumbawa (1500–1930)’ [Horse Breeding in Sumbawa], Spiegel Historiael, vol.

10/11, no. 32, 1997, pp. 438–443 and more recently the important section

on livestock in Peter Boomgaard and David Henley (eds), Smallholders and

Stockbreeders: Histories of Foodcrop and Livestock Farming in Southeast

Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2004. There is also Roderich Ptak’s study of the

horse trade to China that includes Southeast Asia. Roderich Ptak, ‘Pferde auf

See: ein vergessener Aspekt des maritimen chinesischen Handels im frühen

15. Jahr hundert’. In Roderich Ptak, China’s Seabourne Trade with South and

Southeast Asia (1200–1750), Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999, pp. 199–233; and

William Gervase Clarence-Smith’s fairly recent work on the economic role

of Arabs in horse trading. William Gervase Clarence-Smith, ‘Horse Trading:

The Economic Role of Arabs in the Lesser Sunda Islands, c. 1800 to c. 1940’.

In Huub de Jonge and Nico Kaptein (eds), Transcending Borders: Arabs,

Politics, Trade and Islam in Southeast Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2002, pp.

143–162.

80 On horses in the mainland, see William Gervase Clarence-Smith, ‘Horse

Breed ing in Mainland Southeast Asia’. In Boomgaard and Henley, Small-

holders and Stockbreeders, 2004, pp. 191–192. On the use of horses in

warfare, see Michael Charney, Southeast Asian Warfare, 1300–1900, Leiden:

Brill, 2004.

81 Jan Wisseman Christie, ‘The Agricultural Economies of Early Java and Bali’.

In Boomgaard and Henley (eds), Smallholders and Stockbreeders: Histories

of Foodcrop and Livestock Farming in Southeast Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press ,

2004, pp. 47–68; and Bernice de Jong Boers, Chapter 4, this volume.

82 Greg Bankoff, Chapter 6, this volume.

83 Peter Boomgaard, Chapter 3, this volume; and de Jong Boers, Chapter 4, this

volume.

84 The definition of a pony is a horse under 14-and-a-half hands or 147 centi-

metres.

85 William Gervase Clarence-Smith, Chapter 2, this volume; and Dhiravat na

Pomberja, Chapter 5, this volume.



86 Bankoff, chapters 6–7, this volume; and Sandra Swart, chapters 8–9, this

volume.

87 Sandra Swart, ‘Riding High – Horses, Power and Settler Society, c. 1654–1840’,

Kronos, vol. 29, (Environmental History Special Issue), November 2003;

Sandra Swart, ‘“Race” Horses – A Discussion of Horses and Social Dynamics

in Post-Apartheid Southern Africa’. In N. Distiller and M. Steyn (eds), Under

Construction: ‘Race’ and Identity in South Africa Today, Sandton: Heinemann,

2004, pp. 13–24; and Sandra Swart, ‘ “Horses! Give Me More Horses!” – White

Settler Society and the Role of Horses in the Making of Early Modern South

Africa’. In Karen Raber and Treva Tucker (eds), The Culture of the Horse:

Status , Discipline, and Identity in the Early Modern World, Basingstoke: Pal-

grave Macmillan, 2005, pp. 311–328.

88 For a discussion see Thomas Dunlap, Nature and the English Diaspora

– En vironment and History in the United States, Canada, Australia and New

Zealand, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999.

89 One hand measures 4 inches or 10.16 cm.

90 Swart, Chapter 9, this volume.

Chapter 2. Southeast Asia and Southern Africa in the Maritime Horse Trade of the Indian Ocean, c. 1800–1914

William Gervase Clarence-Smith

1 William G. Clarence-Smith, ‘Cape to Siberia: The Indian Ocean and China Sea

Trade in Equids’. In David Killingray, Margaret Lincoln and Nigel Rigby (eds),

Maritime Empires: British Imperial Maritime Trade in the Nineteenth Century,

Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2004, pp. 48–67. My thanks are due to the

editors for permission to draw heavily on this chapter for the present essay.

2 Alexander T. Yarwood, Walers: Australian Horses Abroad, Melbourne: Mel-

bourne University Press, 1989.

3 J. L. Kipling, Beast and Man in India, a Popular Sketch of Indian Animals in

their Relation with People, London: Macmillan, 1921.

4 B. R. Mitchell, International Historical Statistics, London: Macmillan, 1998;

Statesman’s Year-Book, London: Macmillan, various years; Yearbook of Food

and Agricultural Statistics, Washington: Food and Agriculture Organization,

1947. Some figures have been extrapolated from later data.

5 Roderich Ptak, ‘Pferde auf See, Ein Vergessener Aspekt des Maritimen Chi-

nesischen Handels im Frühen 15. Jahrhundert’, Journal of the Economic and

Social History of the Orient, vol. 34, no. 2, 1991, pp. 199–233.

6 H. Epstein, The Origin of the Domestic Animals of Africa, New York: Africana,

1971, vol. 2, pp. 474–476; G. Tylden, Horses and Saddlery, London: J. A. Allen

& Company, 1965, pp. 58–59. See Sandra Swart, Chapter 8, this volume.


Notes 165

7 Official Year Book of the Union, and of Basutoland, Bechuanaland Protector-

ate, and Swaziland, Government Printer: Pretoria, vol. 5, 1922, p. 495. See

Sandra Swart, Chapter 9, this volume.

8 Eric Rosenthal, Encyclopaedia of Southern Africa, London: Warne, 1964, pp.

234–235; R. S. Summerhays, The Observer’s Book of Horses and Ponies, Lon-

don: Frederick Warne & Co., 1954, pp. 63–64.

9 Jane Kidd, The Horse: The Complete Guide to Horse Breeds and Breeding,

London: Longmeadow Press, 1985, pp. 14, 90, 93, 190; Summerhays, The

Observer’s Book, 1954, pp. 18, 54–55; Yarwood, Walers, 1989.

10 Clarence-Smith, ‘Cape to Siberia’, 2004; and Yarwood, Walers, 1989.

11 Jos Gommans, ‘The Horse Trade in Eighteenth-century South Asia’, Journal

of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, vol. 37, 1994; Hala M. Fattah ,

The Politics of Regional Trade in Iraq, Arabia and the Gulf, 1745–1900,

Albany (New York): State University of New York Press, 1997.

12 C. A. Bayly, Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire, Cambridge:

Cam bridge University Press, 1990, pp. 142–143; Gommans, ‘The Horse Trade’,

1994, pp. 241–247.

13 G. Tylden, Horses and Saddlery: An Account of the Animals used by the Brit-

ish and Commonwealth Armies from the Seventeenth Century to the Present

Day, with a Description of their Equipment, London: J. A. Allen, 1980 (reprint

of 1965 edn), p. 58.

14 Marcus Arkin, Storm in a Teacup: The Later Years of John Company at the

Cape, 1815–36, Cape Town: Struik, 1973, pp. 212–214, 228–230.

15 Yarwood, Walers, 1989, pp. 2, 30–31; Tylden, Horses and Saddlery, 1980, pp.

52–53, 58.

16 George M. Theal, Records of the Cape Colony, London: Clowes, 1897–1905,

vol. 17, pp. 488–491; vol. 32, p. 478.

17 Edward Balfour, Cyclopaedia of India and of Eastern and Southern Asia,

Commercial, Industrial and Scientific, Madras, 1871, 2nd edn, vol. 2, p. 618.

18 Parliamentary Papers, Trade Reports.

19 British Library, Oriental and India Office Collections, Vanrenen Collection,

Adrian Vanrenen 24 August 1868 and 10 February 1870, and Jacob Vanrenen

15 March 1869; Tylden, Horses and Saddlery, 1980, pp. 59–60; Yarwood,

Walers, pp. 27, 52. One hand equals four inches.

20 Yarwood, Walers, 1989, p. 79; Official Year Book, 1922, p. 495.

21 Robert Wallace, Farming Industries of Cape Colony, London: King, 1896, pp.

309–310; Yarwood, Walers, 1989, pp. 122–123.

22 Yarwood, Walers, 1989, pp. 82–83, 123; C. E. Callwell, Small Wars: a Tactical

Textbook for Imperial Soldiers, Novato: Presidio Press, 1990 (reprint of 1906

edn), pp. 402–409.



23 Official Year Book, 1922, p. 497.

24 Yarwood, Walers, 1989, p. 102.

25 Wallace, Farming Industries, 1896, pp. 308, 316–319, 322; British South

Africa Company, Reports on the Administration of Rhodesia, 1898–1900,

London, 1900, pp. 202–205.

26 Mitchell, International Historical Statistics, 1998, Table C11.

27 Epstein, The Origin, vol. 2, 1971, p. 477; Yarwood, Walers, 1989, p. 123.

28 Yarwood, Walers, 1989, p. 102; Tylden, Horses and Saddlery, 1980, p. 50.

29 Somerset Playne, Cape Colony (Cape Province): Its History, Commerce, In dus-

tries and Resources, London: Foreign and Colonial Compiling and Publishing

Co., 1910–1911, p. 619; Tylden, Horses and Saddlery, 1980, p. 60.

30 Wallace, Farming Industries, 1896, pp. 314, 319.

31 George Blake, B. I. Centenary, 1856–1956, London: Collins, 1956, pp. 116–120,

204.

32 Theal, Records of the Cape, vol. 35, 1897–1905, pp. 94, 98; Yarwood, Walers,

1989, pp. 122–123; John Noble (ed.), Official Handbook of the Cape of Good

Hope, Cape Town: Soloman, 1886, Appendices; Cape of Good Hope Almanac

and Annual Register, Cape Town, 1845, p. 128; Official Year Book, 1922, p.

497; Parliamentary Papers, Trade Reports.

33 Rosenthal, Encyclopaedia, 1964, p. 235 (and illustration).

34 Marylian and Sanders Watney, Horse Power, London: Hamlyn, 1975, pp.

90–91; Wallace, Farming Industries, 1896, p. 316.

35 Official Year Book, 1922, p. 495; Watney, Horse Power, 1975, p. 90; Dirk

Postma, De Trekboeren te St. Januario Humpata, Amsterdam, 1897, p. 237;

William G. Clarence-Smith, Slaves, Peasants and Capitalists in Southern Angola ,

1840–1926, Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, 1979, pp. 65, 76.

36 British Library, Oriental and India Office Collections, Vanrenen Collection.

37 Tylden, Horses and Saddlery, 1980, pp. 28–33, 61–62, 69; Yarwood, Walers,

pp. 203; Theodore H. Savory, The Mule, a Historic Hybrid, Shildon: Meadow-

field Press, 1979, p. 23.

38 Richard Pankhurst, Economic History of Ethiopia, 1800–1935, Addis Ababa:

Haile Selassie I University Press, 1968, pp. 286, 555–556; Callwell, Small

Wars, pp. 59, 215, 233, 402; Yarwood, Walers, pp. 3, 168–170.

39 Tylden, Horses and Saddlery, 1980, pp. 62–63.

40 André Schérer, La Réunion, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1985, p.

50.

41 Theal, Records of the Cape, vol. 32, 1897–1905, 478.

42 Schérer, La Réunion, 1985, pp. 81–82; Encyclopaedia Britannica, vol. 15,

1929, p. 109.


Notes 167

43 Charles G. Ducray, et al. Ile Maurice, Port Louis: General Printing and Station-

ery Co. Ltd, 1938, pp. 79–83.

44 P. J. Moree, A Concise History of Dutch Mauritius, 1598–1710, London: Kegan

Paul International, 1998, p. 78.

45 Deryck Scarr, Seychelles since 1770, History of a Slave and Post-Slavery Soci-

ety, London: Hurst & Company, 2000, pp. 12, 17.

46 The Mauritius Almanac and Colonial Register, 1926–27, Section A, p. 57;

Denis Fielding and Patrick Krause, Donkeys, London: Macmillan Education,

1998, p. 90.

47 R. J. Barendse, ‘Reflections on the Arabian Seas in the Eighteenth Century’,

Itinerario, vol. 25, no. 1, 2001, p. 30.

48 Robert G. Landen, Oman since 1856, Princeton: Princeton University Press,

1967, p. 147; Mauritius Blue Books.

49 I. L. Mason and J. P. Maule, The Indigenous Livestock of Eastern and Southern

Africa, Farnham: Commonwealth Agricultural Bureaux, 1960, p. 16; Epstein,

The Origin, vol. 2, 1971, pp. 386–387; Patricia W. Romero, Lamu: History,

Soci ety, and Family in an East African Port City, Princeton: Princeton Uni-

versity Press, 1997, pp. 118, 122–123, 145.

50 Parliamentary Papers, Trade Reports for Mauritius; The Mauritius Almanac

and Colonial Register; Mauritius Blue Books.

51 Pankhurst, Economic History of Ethiopia, pp. 211, 352–355, 368, 376, 392,

411, 426, 441–445.

52 Parliamentary Papers, Trade Reports for Mauritius.

53 Mauritius Blue Books.

54 Blake, B. I. Centenary, 1956, pp. 118–119, 127.

55 Ducray, Ile Maurice, 1938, pp. 79–81; Parliamentary Papers, Trade Reports.

56 Yarwood, Walers, 1989, pp. 63–64, 97, 199.

57 Ducray, Ile Maurice, 1938, pp. 81–83.

58 I. Gde Parimartha, ‘Perdagangan dan Politik di Nusa Tenggara, 1815–1915’,

Thesis, Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam, 1995, pp. 104, 208–209; Pieter Hoek-

stra , Paardenteelt op het Eiland Soemba, Batavia, 1948, p. 5.

59 Mauritius Blue Books.

60 H. Kistermann, ‘De Paardenhandel van Nusa Tenggara, 1815–1941’, Student

graduation paper, Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam, 1991, pp. 50, 59.

61 Schérer, La Réunion, 1985, pp. 68–69, 80.

62 Peter Boomgaard, ‘Horses, Horse Trading and Royal Courts in Indonesian His-

tory, 1500–1900’. In Peter Boomgaard and David Henley (eds), Smallholders

and Stockbreeders: Histories of Foodcrop and Livestock Farming in Southeast

Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2004, pp. 211–232.



63 Takeshi Ito, ‘The World of the Adat Aceh, a Historical Study of the Sultanate

of Aceh’, PhD thesis, Australian National University, 1984, pp. 375–379.

64 Serafin D. Quiason, English ‘Country Trade’ with the Philippines, 1644–1765,

Quezon City: University of the Pilippines Press, 1966, pp. 17, 73, 94, 105, 172.

65 British Burma Gazetteer, 1880, I, p. 435.

66 Max and Bertha Ferrars, Burma, London: Sampson Low, Marston & Co., 1900,

pp. 139–140.

67 Gervais Courtellemont, Voyage au Yunnan, Paris: Plon-Nourrit, 1904, pp.

173–179, 222.

68 William G. Clarence-Smith, ‘Horse Breeding in Mainland Southeast Asia and

its Borderlands’. In Boomgaard and Henley (eds), Smallholders and Stock-

breeders, 2004, pp. 189–210.

69 Austin Coates, China Races, Hong Kong, 1994.

70 Ernesto J. de Carvalho e Vasconcellos, As Colónias Portuguesas, Lisbon, 1896,

p. 394; Great Britain, Foreign Office, Historical Section, Portuguese Timor, p.

17; Coates, China Races, 1994, pp. 3, 15–16, 29, 72.

71 Harry R. Burrill and Raymond F. Crist, Report on Trade Conditions in China,

New York: Garland Publishing, 1980, p. 68; Yarwood, Walers, 1989, pp.

153–156, 168–169, 202; Coates, China Races, 1994, pp. 31, 35, 72, 207, 244.

72 Amarjit Kaur, Bridge and Barrier, Transport and Communications in Colonial

Malaya, 1870–1957, Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1985.

73 Straits Settlements Annual Reports, Singapore.

74 Frank J. A. Broeze, ‘The Merchant Fleet of Java, 1820–1850: A Preliminary

Survey’, Archipel, vol. 18, 1979, pp. 251–69.

75 J. H. Moor, Notices of the Indian Archipelago and Adjacent Countries, London:

Oxford University Press, 1968 (reprint of 1837 edn), p. 99; Summerhays, The

Observer’s Book, 1954, p. 65.

76 Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch-Indië, The Hague: W.P. van Stockum & Son,

1917–1921, vol. 3, pp. 151, 227–229; Straits Settlements Annual Reports.

77 Peter J. Rimmer, ‘Hackney Carriages, Syces and Rikisha Pullers in Singapore:

A Colonial Registrar’s Perspective on Public Transport, 1892–1923’. In Peter

J. Rimmer and Lisa M. Allen (eds), The Underside of Malaysian History:

Pullers, Prostitutes and Plantation Workers, Singapore: Singapore University

Press, 1990, p. 131.

78 Eric Jennings, The Singapore Turf Club, Singapore: Singapore Turf Club, 1970.

79 A. Cabaton, Java, Sumatra and the Other Islands of the Dutch East Indies,

London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1911, pp. 119–120; Robert Kay, ‘Java Ponies and

Others’, The Horse (Illustrated), The Quarterly Review of the Institute of the

Horse and Pony Club, vol. 11, no. 41, 1939, pp. 24–27.


Notes 169

80 W. B. Worsfold, A Visit to Java, with an Account of the Founding of Singapore,

London: Bentley and Son, 1893, p. 220; Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch-

Indië, vol. 5, p. 59.

81 Gerrit Kuperus, Het Cultuurlandschap van West-Soembawa, Groningen: J. B.

Wolters, 1936, p. 21.

82 Koloniaal Verslag 1857, The Hague, p. 142; Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch-

Indië, vol. 3, pp. 151, 227–228.

83 See Peter Boomgaard, Chapter 3, this volume.

84 Broeze, ‘The Merchant Fleet of Java’, 1979.

85 L.W.C. van den Berg, Le Hadhramout et les Colonies Arabes dans l’Archipel

Indien, Batavia: Imprimérie du Gouvernement, 1886, p. 150.

86 Kistermann, ‘De Paardenhandel’, 1991, pp. 51, 62, 65.

87 J. à Campo, Koninklijke Paketvaart Maatschappij; Stoomvaart en Staats vorm-

ing in de Indonesische Archipel, 1888–1914, Hilversum: Verloren, 1992.

88 William G. Clarence-Smith, ‘Horse Trading: The Economic Role of Arabs in

the Lesser Sunda Islands, c. 1800 to c. 1940’. In H. de Jonge and N. Kaptein

(eds), Transcending Borders: Arabs, Politics, Trade, and Islam in Southeast

Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2002, pp. 143–162.

89 Koloniaal Verslag, various years; Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch-Indië, vol.

3, p. 151; Parimartha, ‘Perdagangan’, 1995, pp. 207, 211–212; Kistermann,

‘De Paardenhandel’, 1991, p. 51; M. H. du Croo, ‘Cijfers en Beschouwingen

Betreffende het Eiland Soembawa’, Koloniale Studien, vol. 3, no. 3, 1919, pp.

601–602; Kuperus, Het Cultuurlandschap, 1936, p. 188; Hoekstra, Paarden-

teelt , 1948, p. 142; Great Britain, Foreign Office, Historical Section, Dutch

Timor and the Lesser Sunda Islands, London, 1919, p. 26; Great Britain,

Foreign Office, Historical Section, Portuguese Timor, 1920, p. 21.

90 Kuperus, Het Cultuurlandschap, 1936, p. 27; Parimartha, ‘Perdagangan’, 1995,

pp. 147–148.

91 Berg, Le Hadhramout, 1886, p. 146.

92 J. H. P. E. Kniphorst, ‘Een Terugblik op Timor en Onderhoorigheden’, Tijd-

schrift voor Nederlandsch Indië, vol. 14, no. 2, 1885, pp. 16–17; Kistermann,

‘De Paardenhandel’, 1991, pp. 38–43.

93 Parimartha, ‘Perdagangan’, 1995, pp. 160–161.

94 G. C. A. Dijk, ‘De Sandelhout en de Paardenfokkerij in Nederlandsch Indië’,

De Indische Gids, vol. 26, no. 1, ii, 1904, pp. 385–386; Kistermann, ‘De

Paarden handel’, 1991, pp. 55–61; Croo, ‘Cijfers’, 1919, pp. 603–607; Hoek-

stra, Paardenteelt, p. 46.

95 Yarwood, Walers, 1989, pp. 155, 168; Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch-Indië,

vol. 3, p. 153.



96 C. A. Heshusius, KNIL-Cavalerie, 1814–1950; Geschiedenis van de Cavalerie

en Pantsertroepen van het Koninklijk Nederlands-Indische Leger, [no place],

c. 1978, pp. 6, 22.

97 C. C. Macknight, ‘Outback to Outback: The Indonesian Archipelago and Northern

Australia’. In J. J. Fox (ed.), Indonesia, the Making of a Culture, Can berra:

Australian National University, 1980, p. 144; Yarwood, Walers, 1989, p. 165.

98 Yarwood, Walers, 1989, pp. 63–64, 149–150, 199.

99 Heshusius, KNIL-Cavalerie, 1978, pp. 22–23.

100 Greg Bankoff, ‘A Question of Breeding: Zootechny and Colonial Attitudes

Towards the Tropical Environment in the Late Nineteenth-century Philip-

pines’, Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 60, no. 2, 2001, pp. 413–438; Greg

Bankoff, ‘Horsing Around, The Life and Times of the Horse in the Philip-

pines at the Turn of the Twentieth century’. In Boomgaard and Henley (eds),

Smallholders and Stockbreeders, 2004, pp. 233–255.

101 John Crawfurd, A Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Islands and Adjacent

Countries, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1971, pp. 43, 44, 79,

155; Jean Mallat, The Philippines: History, Geography, Customs, Agriculture,

Industry and Commerce of the Spanish Colonies in Oceania, Manila: National

Historical Institute, 1983, pp. 134, 174.

102 Dan Doeppers, personal communication.

103 John Foreman, The Philippine Islands, London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle

& Rivington Ltd, 1890, 1st edn, pp. 301–304.

104 Yarwood, Walers, 1989, pp. 150, 165, 199.

105 John Foreman, The Philippine Islands, Shanghai, 1906, 3rd edn, pp. 336–338;

Hugo H. Miller, Economics Conditions in the Philippines, Boston: Ginn & Co.,

1920, pp. 326, 330; Charles B. Elliott, The Philippines to the End of the Commis-

sion Government, New York: Greenwood Press, 1968, p. 346.

106 Yarwood, Walers, 1989, pp. 155–156.

Chapter 3. Horse Breeding, Long-distance Horse Trading and Royal Courts in Indonesian History, 1500–1900

Peter Boomgaard

I thank Martine Barwegen, who provided me with various references and with

whom I discussed the intricacies of animal husbandry. I am also grateful to

David Henley (who also corrected my English) for his comments on an earlier

draft. This article was first published – in a slightly different version – in Peter

Boomgaard and David Henley (eds), Smallholders and Stockbreeders: Histories of

Foodcrop and Livestock Farming in Southeast Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2004. It is

reprinted by permission of Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde,

Leiden, the Netherlands.


Notes 171

1 Another possibility is that the Portuguese found horses and cattle on these

islands when they arrived. The VOC gave these islands Dutch names, such as

Delft – the most important ‘stud island’ – and Twee Gebroeders.

2 Sumbawa and Bima were both ‘kingdoms’ on the island of Sumbawa, one

of the Lesser Sundas (now Nusa Tenggara), as discussed by Bernice de Jong

Boers, this volume.

3 Generale Missiven van Gouverneurs-Generaal en Raden aan Heren XVII der

Verenigde Oostindische Companie [General Missives of the Governors-Gen-

eral and Council to the Gentlemen XVII of the United East Indian Company],

edited by W. P. Coolhaas et al, ’s-Gravenhage: Nijhoff; Rijks Geschiedkundige

Publicatiën, 1960–2004, vol. V, p. 559, vol. VI, p. 169, vol VII, p. 306, 369, vol.

VIII, p. 116; F. de Haan, Priangan: De Preanger-Regentsschappen onder het

Nederlandsche Bestuur tot 1811 [Priangan: The Preanger Regencies under

Dutch Administration up to 1811], Batavia: Kolff, 4 vols. 1910–12, vol. IV,

p. 494; Selections from the Dutch Records of the Ceylon Government No. 5.

Colombo: State Printing Corporation, 1946, p. 85.

4 Generale Missiven vol. VII, p. 686.

5 Jean Gelman Taylor, Indonesia: Peoples and Histories, New Haven/London:

Yale University Press, 2003, p. 145.

6 O.W. Wolters, Early Indonesian Commerce: A Study of the Origins of Srivijaya,

Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1967, p. 59; William G. Clarence-

Smith, ‘Elephants, Horses, and the Coming of Islam to Northern Sumatra’,

Indonesia and the Malay World, 2004, vol. 32, p. 273.

7 W. P. Groeneveldt, ‘Notes on the Malay Archipelago and Malacca, compiled

from Chinese Sources’, Verhandelingen Bataviaasch Genootschap, 1880, vol.

39, pp. 75–98.

8 W. Groeneveldt, ‘Het Paard in Nederlandsch-Indië; Hoe het is Ontstaan, Hoe

het is en hoe het kan Worden’ [The Horse in the Netherlands Indies: How it

Originated, How it is, and How it could Become], Veeartsenijkundige Bladen

voor Nederlandsch-Indië, 1916, pp. 209–211.

9 A. Cortesão (ed.), The Summa Oriental of Tomé Pires. An Account of the

East, from the Red Sea to Japan, Written in Malacca and India in 1512–1515,

London: Hakluyt Society, 1944, vol. I, p. 160.

10 W. P. Groeneveldt, ‘Notes on the Malay Archipelago’, p. 92.

11 R.C. Temple (ed.) The Travels of Peter Mundy in Europe and Asia, 1608–1667,

vol. III, part 1 (1634–1637), London: Hakluyt Society (Works issued by the Hak-

luyt Society, 2nd series, 45), 1919, pp. 121–130; William Dampier, Voyages

and Discoveries [1699], edited by C. Wilkinson, London: The Argonaut Press

1931, p. 89; Denys Lombard (ed.), Mémoires d’un Voyage aux Indes Orientales

1619–1622; Augustin de Beaulieu, un Marchand Normand à Sumatra [no pl.]:

Maisonneuve & Larose, 1996, p. 92.



12 The Daghregister was the official journal kept by the VOC in Batavia. Dagh-

register Gehouden int Casteel Batavia vant Passerende daer ter Plaetse als over

Geheel Nederlandts-India [Daily Register Kept in Castle Batavia of Occurences

There and in the Entire Netherlands Indies], 31 vols (covering selected years

between 1624 and 1682), Batavia/’s-Gravenhage: Landsdrukkerij/Nijhof, 1644,

pp 122, 125; Pieter van Dam, Beschrijvinge van de Oostindische Com pangie

[Descriptions of the East Indian Company], 7 vols, ’s-Gravenhage: Martinus

Nijhoff: Rijks Geschiedkundige Publicatiën, edited by F.W. Stapel (first 6

vols) and C. W. Th. van Boetzelaer, vol. II-1, p. 261.

13 Crawfurd (1856: 153) recognises at least two races in Sumatra – from Aceh

and from Batubara. Groeneveld (1916: 218) calls the Batak horses a ‘breed’,

but he also regards the Batak as one of the four varieties of the Sumatran

breed. He recognises a Gayo variety, named after a sparsely populated

upland area between Aceh and the Batak region. In a recently published

popular booklet on the modern horse breeds of the world, the Batak and

the Gayo races are still distinguished as separate breeds, the only Sumatran

ones mentioned (Ball 1994: 78).

14 J. Freiherr von Brenner, Besucht bei den Kannibalen Sumatras. Erste Durch-

querung der unabhängigen Batak-Lande [Visit to the Cannibals of Sumatra.

First Cut Right Across the Independent Batak Area] , Würzburg: Woerl, 1894,

pp. 343–344; John Anderson, Acheen, and the Ports on the North and East

Coasts of Sumatra, reprint from the 1st edn 1840, intr. A. J. S. Reid, Kuala

Lumpur, etc,: Oxford University Press, 1971, pp. 24, 175, 194, 205; William

Marsden, The History of Sumatra, reprint of the 3rd edn 1811, intr. by John

Bastin, Kuala Lumpur, etc,: Oxford University Press, 1975, pp. 365, 371,

380–382.

15 Stampa [no first name given], ‘De paarden in Nederlandsch Oost-Indië’ [The

Horses in the Netherlands East Indies], Militaire Spectator; Tijdschrift voor

het Nederlandsche Leger, 1846, vol 14, pp. 172–173; P. Noordijk and J.

van der Weijde, ‘Staat van den veestapel in de 1e en 3e afdeeling op Java’

[Situation of Livestock in the 1st and 3rd Division of Java], Tijdschrift voor

Nijverheid in Nederlandsch Indië, 1856, vol 3, p. 174; De Haan, Priangan: De

Preanger-Regentschappen, vol. IV, p. 495.

16 Groeneveldt, ‘Notes on the Malay Archipelago’, p.50; Peter Boomgaard, Fron-

tiers of Fear: Tigers, and People in the Malay World, 1600–1950, New Haven,

London: Yale University Press, 2001, pp. 147–148.

17 The Bataks themselves had a ‘king’, often called the priest-king (Si Singamanga-

raja). However, this does not seem to have been an ostentatious court such

as that of Aceh, so one does not expect a large demand for horses.

18 What I have called the ‘Minangkabau breed’ is called the ‘Sumatran horse’

by ’t Hoen (1919: 16–17), but given the existence of Batak horses, the term

is confusing. Similarly, the Mandailing horse, mentioned by Veth, may be


Notes 173

classified with the Batak breed, a simplification also implicitly offered by ’t

Hoen. Groeneveld (1916: 216) uses the term ‘horse of the Padang Uplands’,

which is the equivalent of calling it a ‘Minangkabau horse’.

19 A. L van Hasselt, Volksbeschrijving van Midden-Sumatra [Description of the

People of Central Sumatra] (vol. 3 of P. J. Veth (ed.) Midden-Sumatra: Reizen

en Onderzoeking der Sumatra-Expeditie 1877–1879 [Central Sumatra. Travels

and Research of the Sumatra Expedition 1877–1879]. Leiden: Brill, 1882,

pp. 379–380; Von Brenner, Besuch bei den Kannibalen, p. 344; P. J. Veth,

Het Paard onder de Volken van het Maleische Ras [The Horse among the

People of the Malay Race], Leiden: Brill, 1894, p. 29; Christine Dobbin, Islamic

Revivalism in a Changing Peasant Economy: Central Sumatra, 1784–1847,

London, Malmö: Curzon Press, 1983, pp. 15, 66–67, 75.

20 G. P. Rouffaer and J. W. IJzerman (eds), De Eerste Schipvaart der Neder-

landers naar Oost-Indië onder Cornelis de Houtman, 1595–1597; I: D’Eerste

boeck, van Willem Lodewyckz [The First Sea Journey of the Dutch to the

East Indies under Cornelis de Houtman, 1595–1597; I: The First Book, by

Willem Lodewyckz],’s-Gravenhage: Nijhoff (Werken Linschoten Vereeniging

7) 1915, p. 107; William Foster (ed.), The Voyage of Sir Henry Middleton to the

Moluccas 1604–1606, London: Hakluyt Society (Works issued by the Hakluyt

Society, 2nd series, 88) 1943, p. 161; A. Cortesão (ed.), The Summa Oriental,

vol I, pp. 167–168.

21 Daghregister (1888–1931), 1679: 30 October; Generale Missiven (1960–2004)

vol. VI, p. 908, vol. VII, p. 577, vol VIII, p. 56; Stampa, ‘De paarden’, 1846, p. 171;

J. K. J de Jonge (& M. L. van Deventer) De Opkomst van het Nederlandsch Gezag

in Oost-Indië. Versameling van Onuitgegeven Stukken uit het Oud-koloniaal

Archief (1595–1814) [The Rise of Dutch Power in the East Indies. Collection

of Unpublished Documents from the Old-Colonial Archives (1595–1814)], 17

vols, ’s-Gravenhage: Nijhoff, 1862–95, vol V, p. 241; P. J. Veth, Het Paard, pp.

57–58.

22 Generale Missiven (1960–2004), vol. VI, pp. 767, 890, vol. VII, pp. 196, 761,

vol. VIII, pp. 26–7, 93, vol. IX, p. 60; De Haan, Priangan: De Preanger-Regent-

schappen, vol. IV, p. 495.

23 Daghregister (1888–1931), 1680: 2 August; Stampa, ‘De paarden’, 1846,

pp. 171–172; P. Noordijk and J. van der Weijde, ‘Staat van den veestapel’,

pp. 178–179; J. K. J. de Jonge (& M. L. van Deventer) De Opkomst van het

Nederlandsch Gezag, vol V, p. 94; P. J. Veth, Het Paard, pp. 30, 32; De Haan,

Priangan: De Preanger-Regentschappen, vol. IV, p. 499.

24 P. P. Roorda van Eysinga, Verschillende Reizen en Lotgevallen van S. Roorda

van Eysinga [Various Travels and Adventures of S. Roorda van Eysinga]. 4

vols, Amsterdam, van der Heij (1830–2), vol III, p. 66; Stampa, ‘De paarden’,

1846, p. 171; P. Noordijk and J. van der Weijde, ‘Staat van den veestapel’, pp.

174–176; P. J. Veth, Het Paard, pp. 30, 32; De Haan, Priangan: De Preanger-



Regentschappen, vol. IV, pp. 493–499; H.’t Hoen, Veerassen en Veeteelt in

Nederlandsch-Indië [Livestock Races and Stockbreeding in the Netherlands

Indies], Weltevreden, Kolff, 1919, pp. 9–10.

25 Stampa, ‘De paarden’, 1846, p. 171; P. Noordijk and J. van der Weijde, ‘Staat

van den veestapel’, pp. 174–175.

26 Nationaal Archief (The National Archives in The Hague (hereafter NA)),

Ministerie van Koophandel en Koloniën, 147: General Inspection Report,

Priangan, 29 January 1808, par. 202

27 P. Noordijk and J. van der Weijde, ‘Staat van den veestapel’, pp. 174–176; W.

Groeneveld, ‘Het Paard’, p. 218.

28 Daghregister (1888–1931), 1625: 20 May, 1631: 22 July; J. K. J. de Jonge (&

M. L. van Deventer) De Opkomst van het Nederlandsch Gezag, vol IV, p. 220,

vol. V, pp. 139, 197–198; Pieter van Dam, Beschrijvinge van de Oostindische,

vol. II-3, pp. 448–449.

29 J. K. J. de Jonge (& M. L. van Deventer) De Opkomst van het Nederlandsch

Gezag, vol. VII, pp. 145, 216, 236, 242; Pieter van Dam, Beschrijvinge van de

Oostindische, vol. II-3, p. 403.

30 NA, Collection Reinwardt, 17: Fischer, Beschrijvinge, c. 1780; Stampa, ‘De

paarden’, 1846, pp. 172–173; De Residentie Kadoe naar de Uitkomsten der

Statistieke Opname [The Residency of Kadoe Based on the Results of the Stat-

istical Survey], Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1871, p 118; P. J. Veth, Het Paard,

pp. 32–38; H.’t Hoen, Veerassen en Veeteelt, pp. 10, 14–15.

31 Franz Wilhelm Junghuhn, Java, zijne Gedaante, zijn Plantetooi en Inwendige

Bouw [Java, its Appearance, its Flora, and its Morphology], 3 vols, ‘s-Graven-

hage: Mieling, 1853–54; Peter Boomgaard, ‘Maize and Tobacco in Upland

Indonesia’. In Tania Murray Li (ed.), Transforming the Indonesian Uplands:

Marginality, Power and Production, Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Pub-

lishers, 1999, pp. 53–60.

32 A. Cortesão (ed.), The Summa Oriental, vol I, pp. 174–176, 191.

33 NA, Collection Reinwardt, 17: Fischer, Beschrijvinge, c. 1780; Stampa, ‘De

paarden’, 1846, p. 171; J. van der Weide, ‘Iets over de op Java voorkomende

paarden’, Tijdschrift voor Nijverheid in Nederlandsch-Indië, 1860, pp. 390;

P. H. van der Kemp, ‘Historisch overzicht van de pogingen aangewend

tot verbeter ing en veredeling van het paardenras in Nederlandsch-Indië’

[His torical Over view of the Attempts to Improve the Breed of Horses in

the Nether lands Indies], Veeartsenijkundige Bladen voor Nerderlandsch-

Indië,1890, vol. 4, p. 363; W. Groeneveld, ‘Het Paard’, p. 221; H. ’t Hoen,

Veerassen en Veeteelt, p. 9; A. Cortesão (ed.), The Summa Oriental, vol. I,

pp. 197–198, 227.

34 A. Cortesão (ed.), The Summa Oriental, vol. I, pp. 202–203, P. J. Veth, Het

Paard, pp. 50–53; H. ’t Hoen, Veerassen en Veeteelt, pp. 17–22.


Notes 175

35 W. Groeneveld, ‘Het Paard’, p. 50; T. G. T. Pigeaud, Java in the 14th Century;

a Study in Cultural History, 5 vols, The Hague: Nijhoff (KITLV Translation

series, 4), 1960–63, vol. IV, p. 519; A. M. Barrett Jones, Early Tenth Cen tury

Java from Inscriptions, Dordrecht, Cinnaminson: Foris (Verhandelingen KITLV,

107), pp. 57–58.

36 Figures for 1820/2, by Residency, are to be found in NA, Collection Schneither ,

83–100: Statistical Accounts of the Java Residencies, c. 1820. On India c.

1600, see Foster 1921: 17, 103–104.

37 NA, Collection Van Alphen/Engelhard, 1900, 191: Memoir of Succession,

Java’s Northeast Coast, 1801, par. 393; Idem, 1916, 104: Report of the Regent

of Batang, c. 1806, article 23.

38 M. D. Teenstra, De Vruchten mijner Werkzaamheden, Gedurende mijne Reize

naar Java [The Fruits of my Labours, During my Journey to Java], 3 vols,

Groningen: Eekhoff, 1828–30, vol. II, pp. 97–98; P. P. Roorda van Eysinga,

Verschillende Reizen, vol. I, p. 197, vol. II, p. 369; De Haan, Priangan: De

Preanger-Regentschappen, vol. IV, pp. 487, 493–499.

39 Generale Missiven (1960–2004), vol. V, pp. 126, 754, vol. VII, pp. 97, 234, 299,

359, 562, 617; De Haan, Priangan: De Preanger-Regentschappen, vol. IV, p. 495.

40 These prices probably included the cost of transportation to Siam and an

interest payment on the loan.

41 John Crawfurd, A Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Islands & Adjacent

Countries, London: Bradbury & Evans, 1956, pp. 153–155; E. Francis, Herin-

neringen uit den Levensloop van een ‘Indisch’ Ambtenaar van 1815 tot 1851

[Memoirs from the Career of an ‘Indian’ Civil Servant from 1815 to 1851],

Batavia, Van Dorp, 3 vols. 1856–9, vol. II, pp. 135, 161–163; W. J. L. Wharton

(ed.), Captain Cook’s Journal during his First Voyage round the World made

in H.M. Bark ‘ Endeavour’ 1768–71, London: Stock, 1893, p. 344; J. Veth,

Het Paard, pp. 39–50; H. ’t Hoen, Veerassen en Veeteelt, pp. 17–22; William

Dampier, A Voyage to New Holland, edited by J. A. Williamson, London:

Argonaut Press, 1939, pp. 165–170; A. Cortesão (ed.), The Summa Oriental,

vol. I, pp. 202–203; James J. Fox, Harvest of the Palm: Ecological Changes in

Eastern Indonesia, Cambridge, London: Harvard University Press, 1977, pp.

21, 162; Bernice de Jong Boers, ‘Paardenfokkerij op Sumbawa (1500–1930)’

[Horse Breeding in Sumbawa (1500–1930)], Spiegel Historiael, vol. 32. no.

10/11, pp. 438–443; William Gervase Clarence-Smith, ‘Horse Trading: The

economic role of Arabs in the Lesser Sunda Islands, c. 1800 to c. 1940’. In

Huub de Jonge and Nico Kaptein (eds), Transcending Borders: Arabs, Politics,

Trade and Islam in Southeast Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2002, pp. 143–162.

42 Daghregister (1888–1931), 1672: 27 July, 1673: 22 August, 1680: 19 Decem-

ber, 1682: 10 March; Raffles 1830, vol. I, pp. 53–4; E. Francis, Herinneringen,

vol. III, p. 135; A. Cortesão (ed.), The Summa Oriental, vol. I, pp. 202–203.



43 W. van Hogendorp, ‘Beschryving van het Eiland Timor, voor Zoo Verre het

tot Nog toe Bekind is’, Verhandeling Bataviaasch Genootschap, vol. 2, p. 81;

E. Francis, Herinneringen, vol. II, pp. 161–163; Wharton (ed.), Captain Cook’s

Journal, p. 344; William Dampier, A Voyage to New Holland, 1939, p. 168.

44 This statement is deduced from information on the import of Bima horses

in Makassar at an early stage.

45 Valentijn 1724/6, vol. III-2, p. 138; John Crawfurd, A Descriptive Dic tionary,

pp. 89–90; Von Brenner, Besuch bei den Kannibalen, p. 344; J. Veth, Het

Paard, pp. 25, 51–53; De Haan, Priangan: De Preanger-Regentschappen, vol.

IV, p. 494; H. ’t Hoen, Veerassen en Veeteelt, p. 24.

Chapter 4. The ‘Arab’ of the Indonesian Archipelago: Famed Horse Breeds of Sumbawa


This chapter is partly based on two unpublished papers and one published art-

icle, namely: Bernice de Jong Boers, ‘Horses: One of the First Commodities of the

Island of Sumbawa (Indonesia)’, Gadjah Mada University and Leiden University,

paper written for the first Summer Course in Indonesian Modern Economic His -

tory, 1995; Bernice de Jong Boers, ‘Some Notes on the History of Livestock in

Indonesia (with a special focus on Sumbawa)’, paper presented at Animals in

Asia: Relationships and Representations, 15–16 September 1997; and Bernice de

Jong Boers, ‘Paardenfokkerij op Sumbawa (1500–1930)’ [Horse Breeding on the

Island of Sumbawa (1500–1930)], Spiegel Historiael, vol. 32, no. 10/11, 1997, pp.

438–443, supplemented with new data from historical sources. I would like to

thank Greg Bankoff and Sandra Swart for their useful comments on an earlier

version of this article, and Youetta de Jager, Leendert Bergman and André van

der Ham for assistance with the production of the maps.

Topographical names

In the text various spellings and names are used for the same topographical

places, regions and islands. Sometimes the current (Indonesian) spelling

and name is used and at other times the (Dutch) colonial spelling or name,

depend ing on the context. What follows is a short list of these place names

beginning first with their current spelling followed between brackets by the old

or colonial usage: Bantaeng (Bonthain), Gowa (Goa), Jakarta (Batavia), Manado

(Menado), Malacca (Malakka), Reunion (Bourbon), Riau (Riouw), Sri Lanka

(Ceylon), Sulawesi (Celebes), Sumbawa (Soembawa). Borneo is the name of the

whole island while Kalimantan refers only to the Indonesian part of it. The

Lesser Sunda Islands comprise the islands of Bali, Lombok, Sumbawa, Komodo,

Flores, Timor, Sawu and Roti. Today, all these islands except Bali constitute

the region of Nusa Tenggara . Finally, Laambu, Kangga, Paie, Poja, Wera, and


Notes 177

Saie as mentioned in the text are all villages or regions in the province of Bima

(Sumbawa).

1 John Crawfurd, A Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Islands and Adjacent

Countries, London: Bradbury and Evans, 1856, p. 153.

2 See also, Peter Boomgaard, ‘Horses, Horse Trading and Royal Courts in

Indonesian history, 1500–1900’. In Peter Boomgaard and David Henley (eds),

Smallholders and Stockbreeders: History of Foodcrop and Livestock Farming

in Southeast Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2004, pp. 211–232.

3 Ladang is a dry rice field or swidden.

4 According to the climate classification developed by the Russian/Austrian

biologist and climatologist Vladimir Köppen. See: www.britannica.com/eb/

article?tocId=9046045 (23.1.2005) and www.britannica.com/eb/article?tocId

=53348 (23.1.2005).

5 These princedoms were also called sultanates after the introduction of Islam

in Sumbawa at the beginning of the seventeenth century. To avoid confusion

the princedom of Sumbawa will be distinguished from the island as a whole

by using the names ‘Western Sumbawa’ when the region or princedom is

meant and ‘Sumbawa’ when the island is meant.

6 W. Groeneveld, and J. C. Witjens, Het Paard [The Horse], Haarlem: Tjeenk

Willink, Onze Koloniale Dierenteelt, Populaire Handboekjes over Neder landsch-

Indische Nuttige Dieren, 1924, p. 8.

7 Ibid., p. 3.

8 Ibid., pp. 1–2.

9 Jan Wisseman Christie, ‘The Agricultural Economies of Early Java and Bali’.

In Peter Boomgaard and David Henley (eds), Smallholders and Stockbreeders,

2004, pp. 47–68; and Peter Boomgaard, Chapter 3, this volume.

10 Gerrit Kuperus, Het Cultuurlandschap van West-Soembawa [The Man-Made

Landscape of Western-Sumbawa], Groningen, Batavia: J. B. Wolters, 1936,

p. 133; and Peter Goethals, Aspects of Local Government in a Sumbawan

Village (Eastern Indonesia), Ithaca, New York: Cornell University, Monograph

Series, Modern Indonesia Project, Southeast Asia Program, Department of

Far Eastern Studies, 1961, p. 9.

11 Nicolaus Adriani, Bare’e-Nederlandsch Woordenboek [Bare’e-Dutch Dic tionary],

Leiden: Brill, Bataviaasch Genootschap van Kunsten en Weten schappen,

1928.

12 William Thorn, Memoir of the Conquest of Java with the Subsequent Oper-

ations of the British Forces in the Oriental Archipelago, Singapore: Periplus

Editions, 1993, p. 319. Thorn (1781–1843), a British Major who joined the

British Forces serving in Java, also sailed to other regions in the archipelago.



His memoir about the military operations and journeys in the archipelago

was first published in 1815.

13 Crawfurd, A Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Islands, 1856, p. 153. A

Scots man, John Crawfurd, was trained as a doctor and was employed by

the British East Asia Company. He worked in India, Malaysia and Indonesia.

When Thomas Stamford Raffles was appointed Lieutenant-Governor in 1811,

Crawfurd was appointed as the Resident of Yogyakarta (Java) and was sent

on several diplomatic missions throughout the archipelago.

14 W. H. Davenport Adams, The Eastern Archipelago, London: T. Nelson and

Sons, 1880, p. 199; and G. W. Couperus, ‘Les Races chevalines des Iles de la

Sonde’, Revue Coloniale Internationale, vol. 2, 1886, p. 31.

15 Johannes Olivier, Land- en Zeetogten in Nederlands Indië, en Eenige

Britsche Etablissementen, Gedaan in de Jaren 1817 tot 1826 [Journeys by

Land and Sea in the Netherlands-Indies, and Some British Establishments,

Made in the Years Between 1817 and 1826], Part II, Amsterdam: Sulpke,

1828, p. 240. Olivier (1790–1858) was a Dutch official who stayed in and

travelled to several places in the archipelago working as a writer and as a

teacher.

16 H. ’t Hoen, Veerassen en Veeteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië [Cattlebreeds and

Cattle Breeding in the Netherlands-Indies], Batavia: Kolff, 1919, pp. 17–19.

17 Bernice de Jong Boers, ‘Tambora 1815: De Geschiedenis van een Vulkaanuit-

barsting in Indonesië’ [Tambora 1815: The History of a Volcanic Eruption in

Indonesia], Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, vol. 107, no. 3, 1994, pp. 371–392;

and Bernice de Jong Boers, ‘Mount Tambora in 1815: A Volcanic Eruption in

Indonesia and its Aftermath’, Indonesia, vol. 60, 1995, pp. 36–60.

18 Singapore Chronicle 1825; Couperus, ‘Les Races Chevalines des Iles de la

Sonde’, 1886, p. 31; Pieter Johannes Veth, Het Paard Onder de Volken van het

Maleische Ras [The Horse among the People of the Malay Race], Leiden: E. J.

Brill, 1894, p. 39; and Daphne Machin Goodall, Paarderassen van de Wereld

[Horses of the World], Zwolle: La Rivière en Voorhoeve, 1968, p. 176.

19 F. H. H. Guillemard, The Cruise of Marchesa to Kamschatka and New Guinea

(with Notices of Formosa, Liu-Kiu, and Various Islands of the Malay Archi-

pelago), London: John Murray, 2nd edn, 1889, p. 274; and Heinrich Zollinger,

‘Verslag van eene Reis naar Bima en Soembawa en naar Eenige Plaatsen op

Celebes, Saleyer, en Floris Gedurende de Maanden Mei tot Decem ber 1847’

[Report of a Journey to Bima and Sumbawa and to Several Places on Celebes,

Saleyer and Flores during the Months May to December 1847], Verhandelingen

van het Bataviaasch Genootschap voor Kunsten en Wetenschappen (VBG), vol.

23, 1850, p. 78. The original text in Dutch states: ‘Het voornaamste huisdier

van het eiland zal wel het paard zijn, dat nergens zooveel wordt aangetroffen

als op Bima en Soembawa. Dat het ras een der beste is van den gehelen


Notes 179

Archipel, is bekend. Ja, velen houden het voor het beste.’ Heinrich Zollinger

(1818–1859) was a naturalist from Zürich, Switzerland. He undertook several

research expeditions in the archipelago and was dispatched to the island

of Sumbawa in 1847 by the then Governor-General of the Netherlands East

Indies, Jan Jacob Rochussen (De Jong Boers 2000/2001: 12). Bernice de Jong

Boers, ‘Een Proefschrift in Wording over de Milieugeschiedenis van het Eiland

Sumbawa, Indonesië’ [A Note on Writing a PhD thesis about the Environmental

History of the Island of Sumbawa, Indonesia], De Boekerij: Mededelingenblad

van de Vereniging Vrienden der Bibliotheek van de Koninklijke Nederlandse

Akademie van Wetenschappen, vol. 5, no. 3/vol.6, no. 1, p. 12.

20 Singapore Chronicle 1825; and Crawfurd, A Descriptive Dictionary of the

Indian Islands and Adjacent Countries, 1856, p. 153. Isabel is a term used in

equine literature to describe a particular skin colour of horses. It is a yellow-

ish colour against a light or dark skin, sometimes also called palomino.

21 Armando Cortesão (ed.), The Suma Oriental of Tomé Pires: An Account of the

East, from the Red Sea to Japan, Written in Malacca and in India 1512–1515,

and the Book of Francisco Rodrigues Rutter of a Voyage in the Red Sea,

Nautical Rules, Almanack and Maps, Written and Drawn in the East before

1515, London: The Hakluyt Society (second series, no. XC and LXXXIX), 1944,

p. 203.

22 Mansel Longworth Dames (ed.), The Book of Duarte Barbosa: An Account

of the Countries Bordering on the Indian Ocean and their Inhabitants, Writ-

ten by Duarte Barbosa and Completed about the Year 1518 A.D., London:

Hakluyt Society, vol. 49, 1918, p. 194.

23 Zollinger, ‘Verslag van eene Reis naar Bima en Soembawa’, 1850, p. 106.

24 Henri Chambert-Loir, ‘State, City, Commerce: The Case of Bima’, Indonesia,

vol. 57, 1994, p. 80.

25 Ibid., p. 133. The Jene Jara Asi and Jene Jara Kapa were the commanders of

the horsemen and troopers.

26 D. F. van Braam Morris, ‘Nota van Toelichting bij het Contract Gesloten

met het Landschap Bima 1886’ [Explanatory Memorandum to the Contract

concluded with the Region of Bima 1886], Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal-,

Land- en Volkenkunde (TBG), vol. 34, 1891, pp. 202–203. D. F. van Braam

Morris was Governor of Celebes and Dependencies in 1888.

27 M. A. Bouman, ‘Toeharlanti: De Bimaneesche Sultansverheffing’ [Tuharlanti:

the Bimanese Installation of a Sultan], Koloniaal Tijdschrift, vol. 14, 1925,

p. 713. I am not quite sure whether Bouman’s translation is correct. In

Indonesian Jara Manggila would mean something like ‘the horse that ran

wild’. In the Manggarai language, a language spoken in West-Flores near

Bima, Menggila refers to either a fairy-tale horse or to feral horses on the

island of Rinca. Jilis Verheijen, Kamus Manggarai I: Manggarai-Indonesia [A



Dictionary of Manggarai I: Manggarai-Indonesian], ’s-Gravenhage: Martinus

Nijhoff (KITLV), 1967, p. 324.

28 Van Braam Morris, ‘Nota van Toelichting bij het Contract Gesloten met het

Landschap Bima 1886’, 1891, p. 216; H. St. Maryam R. Salahuddin and H. Abdul

Wahab H. Ismail, Pemerintah Adat Kerajaan Bima: Struktur dan Hukum [Adat

Prescriptions of the Kingdom of Bima: Structure and Legisla tion], Mataram:

Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan [Museum Negeri Nusa Tenggara

Barat], 1988/1989, pp. 22–23.

29 W. G. C. toe Water, ‘Sampela, een Tafereel van Bimanesche Zeden, Gewoonten

en Karakters’ [Sampela, a Scene of Bimanese Manners, Customs and Char-

acters], Tijdschrift van Nederlandsch-Indië (TNI), vol. 6, 1844, p. 552; Van

Braam Morris, ‘Nota van Toelichting bij het Contract Gesloten met het Land-

schap Bima 1886’, 1891, p. 215; and J. E. Jasper, ‘Het Eiland Soembawa en

zijn Bevolking’ [The Island of Sumbawa and its Population], Tijdschrift voor

het Binnenlandsch Bestuur, vol. 34, 1908, p. 95.


Landschap Bima 1886’, 1891, p. 215; and Jasper, ‘Het Eiland Soembawa en

zijn Bevolking’, 1908, p. 95. Reals were coins made of gold, silver or copper

used in Dutch districts between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries under

Spanish–Portuguese influence.

31 Jasper, ‘Het Eiland Soembawa en zijn Bevolking’, 1908, p. 95; he was a Dutch

official who visited Sumbawa around 1908.

32 Bouman, ‘Toeharlanti: De Bimaneesche Sultansverheffing’, 1925, pp. 712–715.

33 M. Syaraswati and Yusuf H. Umar, Upacara U’a Pua di Kabupaten Bima

(Pengaruh Agama Islam) [The U’a Pua Ceremony in Kabupaten Bima (the

Influence of the Religion of Islam)], Mataram: Departemen Pendidikan dan

Kebudayaan, Museum Negeri Nusa Tenggara Barat, 1985/1986, pp. 29–30.

34 Thorn, Memoir of the Conquest of Java, 1993 [1815], p. 319.

35 A story told to Michael Hitchcock by members of the Bimanese cultural

organ isa tion ‘La Mbila’, Michael J. Hitchcock, ‘Technology and Society in

Bima, Sumbawa, with Special Reference to House Building and Textile Manu-

facture’, PhD thesis, Department of Ethnology and Prehistory, University of

Oxford, 1983, p. 39. Prince Diponegoro (1785–1855) from Yogyakarta, son

of Sultan Hamengkubuwana III, unleashed a revolt against the Dutch after

a dispute over a new road near the village of Tegalreja which eventually

resulted in the bloody Java War between 1825 and 1830. Dutch authority

in Central and East Java was shaken but after the rebels had been severely

weakened both by disease (cholera, malaria and dysentery) and by the sur-

render of his uncle, Diponegoro entered into negotiations with the Dutch

in 1830. The rebellion ended and Diponegoro was exiled to Menado and

Makassar. Around 200,000 Javanese perished during the war as well as


Notes 181

8,000 European and 7,000 Indonesian soldiers. Merle Ricklefs, A History of

Modern Indonesia, London: Macmillan (Macmillan Asian Histories Series),

1981, pp. 111–113. Today, Diponegoro is one of Indonesia’s national heroes

and remembered as an early freedom fighter against the Dutch.

36 Zollinger, ‘Verslag van eene Reis naar Bima en Soembawa’, 1850, p. 105. The

Ruma Bicara (Raja Bicara in Indonesian) was a functionary directly under

the Sultan and translated in Western sources as Chief Minister. Chambert-

Loir, ‘State, City, Commerce’, 1994, p. 97.


Landschap Bima 1886’, 1891, p. 190 and 222; and J. P. Freijss, ‘Schets van

den Handel van Sumbawa’ [Sketch of the Trade on Sumbawa], Tijdschrift van

Nederlandsch-Indië (TNI), vol. II, 1859, p. 272.

38 Albertus Ligtvoet, ‘Aanteekeningen Betreffende den Economischen Toestand en

de Ethnographie van het Rijk van Soembawa’ [Notes Concerning the Economic

Situation and the Ethnography of the Realm of Sumbawa], Tijd schrift voor

Indische Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde (TBG) , vol. 23, 1876, pp. 555–570.

39 Ligtvoet, ‘Aanteekeningen Betreffende den Economischen Toestand en de

Ethnographie van het Rijk van Soembawa’, 1876, p. 567 and 589–590. Ligtvoet

was a Dutch official stationed in Makassar at the service of the Resident of

Celebes and Dependencies between 1864 and 1879. J. Noorduyn, Bima en

Sumbawa: Bijdragen tot de Geschiedenis van de Sultanaten Bima en Sumbawa

door A. Ligtvoet en G .P. Rouffaer [Bima and Sumbawa: Contri butions to

the History of the Sultanates of Bima and Sumbawa by A. Ligtvoet and G. P.

Rouffaer], Dordrecht: Foris (KITLV, Verhandelingen 129), 1987, p. 1. At that

time, the island of Sumbawa resided under this Residency.

40 Jasper, ‘Het Eiland Soembawa en zijn Bevolking’, 1908, p. 94.

41 Cidomo, dokar and Ben Hur are all local names for small carts and coaches

pulled by a horse.

42 MMK 345, Memorie van Overgave [Memorandum of Transfer] (hereafter MvO),

J. J. Bosch, Timor en Onderhorigheden [Timor and Dependencies], 29.3.1938,

p. 99.

43 Gerrit Kuperus, ‘Beschouwingen over de Ontwikkeling en den Huidigen

Vormen rijkdom van het Cultuurlandschap in de Onderafdeeling Bima (Oost-

Soembawa)’ [Considerations on the Genesis of the Current Polymorphology

in the Man-Made Landscape in the Bima District (Eastern Sumbawa)], Tijd-

schrift van het Koninklijk Aardrijkskundig Genootschap (KNAG), vol. 55, no.

2, 1938, p.13. Kuperus was a scholar who took his doctoral degree in 1936

based on a geographical study of Western Sumbawa. He visited the island in

1931 and 1932.


Landschap Bima 1886’, 1891, p. 190; Michael Dove, ‘Man, Land and Game in



Sumbawa, Eastern Indonesia’, Singapore Journal of Tropical Agriculture, vol.

5, no. 2, 1984, p. 116.

45 H. Kistermann, ‘De Paardenhandel van Nusa Tenggara 1815–1941’ [The

Horse Trade in Nusa Tenggara], Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit, unpublished

doctoral thesis, 1990, pp. 26–27.

46 Overgekomen Brieven en Papieren [Transmitted Letters and Papers] (here-

after OBP), The Hague: National Archive, VOC archives, OBP 1240 and 1246.

The trade was especially in sappan wood – a product of the wood from

which red paint pigment (dyestuff) was prepared.

47 KIT 1213, Militaire Memorie over de Afdeeling Soembawa [Military Report on

the Region of Sumbawa], anonymous, 1929.

48 OBP 1287, folio 1232–1233.

49 Boomgaard, Chapter 3, this volume.

50 Jacob Cornelis Matthieu Radermacher, ‘Korte Beschrijving van het Eiland

Celebes en de Eilanden Floris, Sumbauwa, Lombok en Bali’ [Short Description

of the Island of Celebes and the Islands Flores, Sumbawa, Lombok and Bali],

Verhandelingen van het Bataviaasch Genootschap voor Kunsten en Weten-

schappen (VBG), vol. 4, 1786, p. 186 and Thorn, Memoir of the Conquest of

Java, 1993 [1815], p. 320.

51 De Jong Boers, ‘Mount Tambora in 1815’, 1995.

52 Caspar Georg Carl Reinwardt, Reis naar het Oostelijk Gedeelte van den

Indischen Archipel, in het Jaar 1821 [Journey to the Eastern Part of the Indian

Archipelago, in the Year 1821], edited by W. H. de Vriese, Amsterdam: Frederik

Muller, 1858, p. 317.

53 Ibid., p. 318. C. G. C. Reinwardt (1773–1854) was a Prussian-born Dutch

botan ist who established the ‘ ‘s-lands Plantentuin’ at Bogor (the Bogor

Botan ical Garden) nowadays called Kebun Raya in 1817. He spent six years

in the Indonesian archipelago. After his return to the Netherlands in 1822,

he took up a professorship at Leiden University in 1823.

54 Emanuel Francis, Herinneringen uit de Levensloop van een Indisch Ambtenaar

van 1815 tot 1851 [Memories from the Course of the Life of an ‘Indisch’

Official from 1815 to 1851], 3 vols, Batavia: Van Dorp, 1856, p.134. Francis

was a Dutch official who was stationed in various regions of the Netherlands

East Indies between 1815 and 1851.

55 Zollinger, ‘Verslag van eene Reis naar Bima en Soembawa’, 1850, pp. 105,

107–108 and 114.

56 Crawfurd, A Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Islands, 1856, p. 153; Guil-

lemard, The Cruise of Marchesa to Kamschatka and New Guinea, 1889, p.

153; and J. Ballot, ‘Historisch Overzicht van de Maatregelen tot Verbetering

van den Paarden- en Veestapel in Nederlandsch-Indië’ [Historical Review of


Notes 183

Measures to Improve the Horse and Cattle Population in the Netherlands-

Indies], Veeartsenijkundige Bladen voor Nederlandsch-Indië, vol. 10, 1897, p.

28.

57 Freijss, ‘Schets van den Handel van Sumbawa’, 1859, p. 272. Freijss (his name

is also spelled as Freijs and Freys) was a merchant in Lombok and often paid

visits to Sumbawa for business purposes.

58 Jaarverslag van de Burgerlijke Veeartsenijkundige Dienst (BVD) [Yearly report

of the Civil Veterinary Service], 29 vols, covering selected years between

1922 and 1940, Batavia: Departement van Economische Zaken, 1923–1941,

see years 1922–1938; and Jaarboek van het Departement van Landbouw,

Nijverheid en Handel in Nederlandsch-Indië [Year-book of the Department

of Agriculture in the Netherlands-Indies], 24 vols, covering selected years

between 1906 and 1929, Batavia: Landsdrukkerij; Weltevreden: Albrecht,

1906–1911 and 1914–1921.

59 Jaarverslagen van de BVD, 1922–38. Gerobak means cart or coach.

60 MvO, J. J. Bosch, 29.3.1938, line 23; and Michael Georg de Boer and Johan-

nes Cornelis Westermann, Een Halve Eeuw Paketvaart, 1891–1941 [Half a

Century of Packet-Shipping], Amsterdam: DeBussy, 1941, pp. 276–279.

61 A kuli is a day-labourer mostly hired for tough jobs, in English called coolie.

62 De Boer and Westermann, Een Halve Eeuw Paketvaart, 1941, pp 281–282.

63 Maurice Henri du Croo, ‘De Verbetering van den Paardenstapel op het Eiland

Soembawa’ [The Improvement of the Horse Population on the Island of

Sumbawa], Koloniale Studiën, vol. 1 (Part II), 1917, p. 479 and J. Sibinga

Mulder, ‘De Economische Beteekenis van het Vee in Nederlandsch Oost-Indië

en de Regeeringszorg Ervoor’ [The Economic Significance of Livestock in the

Netherlands East Indies and the Government Measures], De Indische Gids,

vol. 19 (Part I), 1927, p. 323.

64 These measures were taken within the broader context of the so-called

‘Ethische Politiek’ (Ethical Policy) which was officially launched in 1901. This

policy was a kind of welfare programme, called into being because the Dutch

felt the moral obligation to compensate for ‘centuries of exploitation’. Robert

Cribb (1993) ‘Development Policy in the Early 20th Century’. In J. P. Dirkse,

Frans Hüsken and Mario Rutten, Development and Social Welfare Indonesia’s

Experiences under the New Order, Leiden: KITLV Press, 1993, p. 226.

65 Du Croo, ‘De Verbetering van den Paardenstapel op het Eiland Soembawa’,

1917, p. 481; and Sibinga Mulder, ‘De Economische Beteekenis van het Vee in

Nederlandsch Oost-Indië en de Regeeringszorg Ervoor’, 1927, pp. 323–324.

66 Du Croo, ‘De Verbetering van den Paardenstapel op het Eiland Soembawa’,

1917; and Ajoebar, ‘De Verbetering van den Paardenstapel op West-Soembawa ’

[The Improvement of the Horse-Population in Western-Sumbawa], Koloniale



Studiën, vol. 11 (Part II), 1927, pp. 366–373. See also Greg Bankoff, Chapter

6, this volume.

67 Jaarverslagen van de BVD, 1922–38.

68 MMK 342, MvO, C. Schultz, Timor en Onderhorigheden [Timor and Depend-

encies], 13.6.1927, pp. 8 and 37; MMK 343, MvO, P. F. J. Karthaus, Timor en

Onderhorigheden [Timor and Dependencies], 6.5.1931, p. 22; and MMK 344,

MvO, E. H. de Nijs Bik, Timor en Onderhorigheden [Timor and Depend encies],

16.6.1934, p. 61.

69 Raden Soekardjo Sastrodihardjo, Beberapa Tjatatan Tentang Daerah Pulau

Sumbawa [Some Remarks Concerning the Island of Sumbawa], Singaradja:

Djawatan Petanian Rakjat Propinsi Nusa Tenggara, 1956, pp. 43–44; Nusa

Tenggara dalam Angka, 1978 [Nusa Tenggara in Statistics, 1978], Mataram:

Kantor Sensus dan Statistik Propinsi NTB, 1979, p. 136; and Nusa Tenggara

dalam Angka, 1987 [Nusa Tenggara in Statistics, 1987], Mataram: BAPPEDA

dan Kantor statistik propinsi NTB, 1988, p. 133.

70 Sibinga Mulder, ‘De Economische Beteekenis van het Vee in Nederlandsch

Oost-Indië en de Regeeringszorg Ervoor’, 1927, pp. 311.

71 Zollinger, ‘Verslag van eene Reis naar Bima en Soembawa’, 1850, p. 176; and Fran-

cis, Herinneringen uit de Levensloop van een Indisch Ambtenaar, 1856, p. 131.

72 Sawah is a wet rice field (sometimes dependent on rain, sometimes arti-

ficially irrigated), in English called a paddy field.

73 ’t Hoen, Veerassen en Veeteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië, 1919, p. 20; and ‘Het

Veeteeltbedrijf in den Ambtskring Soembawa-Besar’ [Animal Husbandry in

the District Sumbawa-Besar], Nederlands-Indische Bladen voor Diergenees-

kunde en Dierenteelt (NIBDD), vol. 36, 1924, p. 352.

74 Freijss, ‘Schets van den Handel van Sumbawa’, 1859, p. 268; and De Boer and

Westermann, Een Halve Eeuw Paketvaart, 1941, p. 274.

75 ’t Hoen, Veerassen en Veeteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië, 1919, p. 18; Sibinga

Mulder, ‘De Economische Beteekenis van het Vee in Nederlandsch Oost-Indië

en de Regeeringszorg Ervoor’, 1927, p. 322; and National Conservation plan

for Indonesia. Volume IV: Nusa Tenggara, Bogor: UNDP/FAO (Field Report

no. 44, The National Parks Development Project, based on the work of John

MacKinnon and others), 1982, p. 2.

76 Jan Merkens, ‘De Grootveestapel van Nederlandsch-Indië’ [The Livestock

Population of the Netherlands-Indies], Koloniale Studiën, vol. 8 (Part I), 1924,

pp. 189 and 195.

77 Pieter Hoekstra, ‘Paardenteelt op het Eiland Soemba’ [Horse-Breeding on the

Island of Sumba], PhD thesis, Universiteit van Indonesië, Batavia, 1948, p. 23.

78 Kuperus, ‘Beschouwingen over de Ontwikkeling en den Huidigen Vormen-

rijkdom van het Cultuurlandschap’, 1938, p. 226; and Dove, ‘Man, Land and


Notes 185

Game in Sumbawa’, 1984, p. 116. Alang-alang is a species of high grass often

known in English as elephant grass.

79 Jaarverslag van de BVD, 1926; Jaarverslag van de BVD, 1937; and Jaarverslag

van de BVD, 1938.

80 Jaarverslag van de BVD, 1938; MMK 340, MvO, C. H. van Rietschoten, Timor

en Onderhorigheden [Timor and Dependencies], 25.7.1913, p. 58.

81 Ajoebar, ‘De Verbetering van den Paardenstapel op West-Soembawa’, 1927,

p. 367.

82 Glanders is an infectious disease of the mucous membrane of the nose,

anthrax an acute infectious disease caused by the spore-forming bacterium

Bacillus anthracis and trypanosomiases a kind of sleeping disease caused

by the parasite Trypanosoma evansi and transmitted by biting flies (tsetse

flies).

83 Jaarboek van het Departement van Landbouw, Nijverheid en Handel, 1911/ 1912,

p. 262; and MMK 350, MvO, Groenevelt, afdeeling Soembawa [Department

Sumbawa], 23.2.1927. After the formation of a veterinary ser vice on Sumbawa

in 1912, the vaccination of livestock and other preventive measures were

undertaken. These measures proved to be highly effective and almost com-

plete ly eliminated livestock diseases. KIT 1268, MvO, A. Couvreur, Timor en

Onderhorigheden [Timor and Dependencies], 21.7.1924; MvO, Schultz, 1927,

p. 13; and Ajoebar, ‘De Verbetering van den Paardens tapel op West-Soembawa’,

1927, p. 367.

84 MvO, Van Rietschoten, 1913, p. 58; Merkens, ‘De Grootveestapel van Neder-

landsch-Indië’, 1923, p. 21; and De Boer and Westermann, Een Halve Eeuw

Paketvaart, 1941, p. 275.

85 Population estimated on Jaarverslagen van de BVD, 1922–1938.

86 MvO, De Nijs Bik, 1934, p. 51.

87 De Boer and Westermann, Een Halve Eeuw Paketvaart, 1941, p. 276.

Chapter 5. Javanese Horses for the Court of Ayutthaya

Dhiravat na Pombejra

Currency

One rijksdaalder or rixdollar was equivalent to 60 stuivers in the East Indies

after 1656. The value of the the Spanish rial of eight or real fluctuated, but was

equivalent to 60 stuivers after 1622. In Siamese currency, one catty or chang was

equivalent to 20 taels (tamlung), or 80 ticals (baht). Between 1665 and around

1690 one Siamese catty was equivalent to 144 Dutch guilders. Sources: George

Vinal Smith, The Dutch in Seventeenth-Century Thailand, De Kalb: University of

Northern Illinois Center for Southeast Asian Studies, 1977, pp. 134–135; VOC-

Glossarium, Den Haag: Instituut voor Nederlandse Geschiedenis, 2000.



1 See for example Henry Ginsburg, Thai Manuscript Painting, London: The

British Library, 1989, pp. 48, 65; Pamela York Taylor, Beasts, Birds, and Blos-

soms in Thai Art, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1994, p. 33. A naga

is a mythical serpent which features in stories both of the Hindu god Vishnu

and the Buddha. A famous representation in Thai art of horse and rider is of

course the ‘Frenchman’ in the Lacquer Pavilion at Suan Pakkad Palace.

2 Phra traibidok lae atthakatha thai (Tripitaka), Mahamakut Buddhist Uni-

versity edition, Bangkok, 1982, ‘Chakkawattisut’ in ‘Phra suttantabidok

tikhanikai patikawak’ Book 3 Part 1, pp. 99–100.

3 Nationaal Archief (formerly Algemeen Rijksarchief), Den Haag (henceforth

NA), VOC 1517, King of Siam to Governor-General (hereafter G-G), BE 2235,

fs.292 verso–293.

4 W. Ph. Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven van Gouverneurs-Generaal en Raden

aan Heren XVII der Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie [General Letters from

the Governors-General and Council to the Gentlemen Seventeen of the United

East India Company], vol. VIII, The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1985, letter of

30 Nov. 1725, p. 26.

5 See Dhiravat na Pombejra, Siamese Court Life in the Seventeenth Century as

Depicted in European Sources, Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University, 2001, pp.

157–159.

6 Armando Cortesão (ed.), The Suma Oriental of Tomé Pires, New Delhi & Madras:

Asian Educational Services, 1990, vol. 1, pp. 201–203; M.C. Ricklefs, A History

of Modern Indonesia, London and Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1981, p. 19.

7 D.G. Stibbe (ed.), Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch-Indië, Tweede druk, Derde

deel, The Hague, Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff/E. J. Brill, 1919, p. 228. The Java

War was an unsuccessful rebellion by Prince Dipanagara and his followers

against the Dutch.

8 De Graaff, cited by Denys Lombard, Le sultanat d’Atjéh au temps d’Iskandar

Muda 1607–1636, Paris: Ecole Française d’Extrême Orient, 1967, p. 44.

9 See for instance Maurizio Bongianni (ed.), Simon & Schuster’s Guide to Horses

and Ponies, New York: Simon and Schuster, 1988, entries 126–130.

10 Even as late as the seventeenth century, the rulers of Southeast Asia were still

searching for fine specimens of horse. In 1648 the susuhunan of Mataram

sent three people to Persia to try to buy horses ‘with wholly black, red, or

white hair’, and wanted the VOC to be of assistance to these horse-buyers. See

Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. II, 1964, letter of 18 Jan. 1649, p. 339.

11 John Crawfurd, A Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Islands & Adjacent

Countries, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1971, p. 382.

12 Joost Schouten, ‘A Description of … Siam’ in François Caron and Joost

Schouten, A True Description of the Mighty Kingdoms of Japan and Siam

(facsimile of 1671 London edition), Bangkok: The Siam Society, 1986, p. 128.


Notes 187

13 Jeremias van Vliet, ‘Description of the Kingdom of Siam’, trans. L. F. van

Ravenswaay, in Chris Baker et al (eds), Van Vliet’s Siam, Chiang Mai: Silkworm,

2005; the Englishman William Keeling, in a journal entry for 22 November

1608, claims to have heard from a Siamese envoy in Banten that the Siamese

clothed their horses and elephants in red cloths, presumably Indian cotton

cloth. See Samuel Purchas, Purchas His Pilgrims, London: William Stansby,

1625, Book III, Chapter VI, p. 195.

14 Nicolas Gervaise, The Natural and Political History of the Kingdom of Siam,

trans. John Villiers, Bangkok: White Lotus, 1989, p. 212; Simon de La Loubère,

The Kingdom of Siam, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1969, p. 97.

The ‘Moors’ traded with and in Siam from at least the sixteenth century, and

by the early seventeenth century they, especially the Persians, had become

very influential in the ‘port department of the right’ in Ayutthaya.

15 François-Timoléon, abbé de Choisy, Journal of a Voyage to Siam 1685–1686,

trans. Michael Smithies, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1993, pp.

160–161.

16 Engelbert Kaempfer, A Description of the Kingdom of Siam 1690, trans. J.G.

Scheuchzer, Bangkok: White Orchid Press, 1987, p. 45.

17 Lombard, Le sultanat d’Atjéh, p. 144; Lombard uses data from the Hikayat

Aceh.

18 Jacques Dumarçay, The Palaces of South-East Asia, Singapore: Oxford Uni-

versity Press, 1991, p. 111.

19 Dhiravat, Siamese Court Life, pp. 96–97; Winai Pongsripian (ed.), Kot mon-

thian ban chabab chaloem phra kiat [The Palatine Law (Royal celebratory

edition)], Bangkok: Thailand Research Fund, 2005, p. 97.

20 Van Vliet, ‘Description’, in Baker et al (eds), Van Vliet’s Siam, p. 123.

21 La Loubère, Kingdom of Siam, p. 91. Apart from the huge numbers of horses

involved in the wars of Europe from medieval times onwards, not to mention

during the Classical era, large numbers of horses were also used in the wars

in India during the seventeenth century. A VOC general letter of 1676 relates

that the battles in the war involving Sivaji (Shivaji), the Maratha leader, against

the Mughals and Bijapur involved up to 40,000 or even 70,000 horses, indeed

quite different in scale from the 2,000 or so horses of King Narai’s cavalry. See

Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven, , vol. IV, 1971, letter of 30 Sept. 1676, p. 119.

22 NA, VOC 1180, Van Muijden to G-G, 10 Nov. 1649, fs.604–611.

23 Ibn Muhammad Ibrahim Muhammad Rabi, The Ship of Sulaiman, trans. John

O’Kane, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1972, p. 85.

24 Krom Sinlapakon, Prachum phongsawadan phak thi 82. Ruang phra ratcha

phongsawadan krung siam chak ton chabap khong British Museum krung

London [British Museum recension of the Ayutthaya royal chronicles], Bang-

kok: Fine Arts Department, 1994, pp. 77–78, 121, 148.



25 G. E. Harvey, History of Burma, London: Frank Cass, 1967, p. 242.

26 Winai Pongsripian (ed.), Khamhaikan khun luang wat pradu songtham [Testi-

mony of Khun Luang Wat Pradu Songtham], Bangkok: Secretariat of the

Prime Minister’s Office, 1991, p. 15.

27 NA, VOC 1691, Cleur’s ‘Relaas’, 1703, fs.68–70.

28 Krom Sinlapakon, Tamra ma khong kao kap tamra laksana ma [old horse

manuals], Bangkok: Fine Arts Department, 2001, pp. 1–6.

29 Krom Sinlapakon, Krabuan phayuhayatra sathonlamak samai somdet phra

naraimaharat chamlong chak ton chabab nangsu samud thai khong ho samud

haeng chat [Royal land procession in King Narai’s reign from old Thai manuscript

in National Library], Bangkok, 1987 and Riu krabuan hae phayuhayatra thang

chonlamak chak ton chabab nangsusamud thai khong ho samud haeng chat

[Water procession from King Narai’s reign], Bangkok, 1987.

30 Remco Raben and Dhiravat na Pombejra (eds), In the King’s Trail, Bangkok:

Royal Netherlands Embassy, 1997, p. 17.

31 See also Krom Sinlapakon, Tamra phichai songkhram [Manual on warfare],

Bangkok: Fine Arts Department, 1969, pp. 7, 25, 36–37.

32 NA, VOC 875, G-G to Okya Sombatthiban, 11 May 1651, f. 177.

33 NA, VOC 1377, Phrakhlang to G-G, 1682, fs.539–540.

34 Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. IV, letter of 31 May 1684, p. 685; letter

of 11 Dec. 1685, p. 837.

35 Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. VII, 1979, letters of 14 Jan. and 28

Nov. 1715, pp. 149, 196–197.

36 Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. VIII, letter of 5 Dec. 1726, p. 93.

37 La Loubère, Kingdom of Siam, pp. 39–40.

38 NA, VOC 1386, Phrakhlang to G-G, CS 1045/6, f.667 verso; VOC 1407, Okphra

Kosathibodi to G-G & Council, 14 Dec. 1684, f.3223.

39 NA, VOC 8360, Kamer Zeeland, ‘Overgegeven Gravaminas door den gesant van

Siam aan haar Edes. tot Batavia’ [List of grievances submitted by the Siamese

envoy to the Governor-General and Council at Batavia], rec. 15 Feb. 1686;

Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. IV, letter of 31 May 1684, p. 687.

40 Coolhaas (ed.) Generale Missiven, vol. V, 1975, letter of 13 Dec 1686, p. 43.

41 Ibid, letter of 23 Dec. 1687, p. 126.

42 Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. V, letter of 27 Dec. 1688, p. 217.

43 NA, VOC 1440, Keijts to G-G, 23 Dec. 1687, fs.2150 verso–2262 verso; Coolhaas

(ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. V, letter of 13 March 1688, p. 171; Ricklefs,

History, pp. 80–81.

44 On the Dutch in Siam after 1688, see for example George Vinal Smith, The

Dutch in Seventeenth-Century Thailand, De Kalb: University of Northern Illi-


Notes 189

nois Center for Southeast Asian Studies, 1977, p. 45; Han ten Brummelhuis,

Merchant, Courtier and Diplomat. A History of the Contacts between the

Netherlands and Thailand, Lochem-Gent: De Tijdstroom, 1987, pp. 40 ff.

45 NA, VOC 1503, Van Son to G-G, 23 Dec. 1692, fs.531 & verso.

46 NA, VOC 1485, Van den Hoorn to G-G & Council, 5 Feb. 1690, f.120; VOC

1498, King Phetracha to G-G, 1690–1691, f.248 verso;VOC 1517, Phrakhlang

to G-G & Council, received 17 March 1692.

47 NA, VOC 1596, Phrakhlang to G-G & Council, received 18 Feb. 1697, fs.2–4.

A cuirassier was a mounted soldier wearing metal or leather armour (the

‘cuirass’), covering the chest and sometimes the back. In Europe the term

came into use during the mid-sixteenth century.

48 NA, VOC 1569, Phrakhlang to G-G & Council, BE 2238, received 18 Jan. 1695,

fs.56–65; VOC 1536, King of Siam to G-G & Council, received 7 Dec. 1693,

fs.88 & verso; Krom Sinlapakon, Tamra ma, pp. 1–2.

49 NA, VOC 1517, Phrakhlang to G-G & Council, BE 2236, f.427; VOC 1569,

Phrakhlang to G-G & Council, received 18 Jan. 1695, f.99.

50 NA, VOC 1517, Phrakhlang to G-G & Council, received 17 March 1692; VOC

1623, Tant to G-G & Council, 6 Jan. 1699, fs.10–11. In the traditional Siamese

administrative hierarchy, the ranks conferred on officials were (in descend-

ing order of importance) chaophraya, okya or phraya, okphra or phra, okluang

or luang, okkhun or khun, okmun or mun, and okphan or phan.

51 NA, VOC 1663, Tant & Council to G-G & Council, 31 Jan. 1702, fs.26–27.

52 The titles of the people sent to Java to buy horses rarely corresponded

to titles in the lists included in the Laws of Hierarchy, probably because

those lists were by no means comprehensive. An exception was ‘Coen Craij

sinthop’, which corresponds exactly with the rank and title of khun krai

sinthop, an official in the royal horses department or krom ma ton with 400

sakdi na marks. The head of this department was the okya suriya phaha,

with 3,000 sakdi na marks. See Krom Sinlapakon, Ruang kotmai tra sam

duang [The Law of the Three Seals], Bangkok: Fine Arts Department, 1978,

pp. 131–133.

53 Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. V, letter of 19 Jan. 1697, pp. 787–788.

54 NA, VOC 1506, Van Son & Council to G-G & Council, 8 Dec. 1697, f.54.

55 NA, VOC 1569, Phrakhlang to G-G & Council, received 18 Jan. 1695, f.107;

Phrakhlang to G-G & Council, received 18 Feb. 1697, fs.2–4; Coolhaas (ed.),

Generale Missiven, vol. V, letter of 19 Jan. 1697, p. 788; letter of 30 Nov.

1697, p. 842; Generale Missiven, vol. VI, 1976, letter of 2 Feb. 1698, p. 5.

56 NA, VOC 1676, Tant & Council to G-G & Council, 1 Feb. 1703, fs.93–94; VOC

1676, Cleur & Council to G-G & Council, 8 Jan. 1704, f.20; VOC 939, G-G &

Council to Cleur & Council, 16 Aug. 1703.



57 NA, VOC 939, G-G & Council to Cleur & Council, 16 Aug. 1703, f.727; see

also Bhawan Ruangsilp, Dutch East India Company Merchants at the Court

of Ayutthaya: Dutch Perceptions of the Thai Kingdom, c. 1604–1765, Leiden/

Boston: Brill, 2007, pp. 171–172.

58 Société des Missions Etrangères, rue du Bac, Paris (Archives), vol. 882, ‘Re-

lation de la Mission de Siam’ by Gabriel Braud, fs.18–22.

59 NA, VOC 1569, Phrakhlang to G-G & Council, BE 2238, received 18 Jan. 1695,

fs.61–64.

60 See for example David K. Wyatt, Thailand: A Short History, London and

Bangkok: Yale University Press, 1984, pp. 126–127.

61 Ten Brummelhuis, Merchant, pp. 44–45; Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven,

vol. VI, letter of 25 Nov. 1708, p. 544; letter of 30 Nov. 1709, p. 610.

62 Coolhaas (ed.) Generale Missiven, vol. VI, letter of 19 Feb. 1710, p. 659; letter

of 30 Nov. 1710, p. 681.

63 J. van Goor (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. IX, The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff,

1988, letter of 17 Oct. 1730, p. 114; letter of 30 Nov. 1730, p. 174.

64 Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. II, letter of 8 Jan. 1641, p. 132.

65 Coolhaas (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. III, 1968, letter of 19 Dec. 1671, p.

764.

66 Van Goor (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. IX, letter of 14 Feb. 1732, p. 299; letter

of 28 Dec. 1731, p. 266; letter of 12 Oct. 1731, pp. 235–236; letter of 5 Dec.

1726, p. 79.

67 NA, VOC 964, G-G & Council to D. Blom & Council, 24 July 1716, f.746.

68 NA, VOC 970, G-G & Council to W. Blom & Council, 18 Aug. 1719, fs.813–

814.

69 Data on loans to Siamese horse-buyers from the Generale Missiven series,

edited by Coolhaas and Van Goor, vols V–IX.

70 Van Goor (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. IX, letter of 8 Dec. 1732, p. 635; letter

of 12 Oct. 1735, p. 654; letter of 17 Oct. 1730, p. 114; NA, VOC 2346, Name

roll of the King of Siam’s servants travelling per the Jacoba, 31 Jan. 1735,

fs.41–42; J.E. Schooneveld-Oosterling (ed.), Generale Missiven, vol. XI, The

Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1997, letter of 31 December 1748, p. 656.

Chapter 6. Colonising New Lands: Horses in the Philippines

Greg Bankoff

Earlier versions of this chapter can be found in Greg Bankoff, ‘Bestia Incognita:

The Horse and Its History in the Philippines 1880–1930’, Anthrozoös, vol. 17, no.

1, 2004, pp. 3–25; and Greg Bankoff, ‘Horsing Around: The Life and Times of the

Horse in the Philippines at the Turn of the 20th Century’. In Peter Boomgaard and


Notes 191

David Henley (eds), Smallholders and Stockbreeders: Histories of Foodcrop and

Livestock Farming in Southeast Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2004, pp. 233–255.

1 This ancestry is still hinted at etymologically by the use of the Malay word

kuda for horse in Mindanao and Sulu languages. William Scott, Barangay:

Sixteenth Century Philippine Culture and Society, Quezon City: Ateneo de

Manila, 1994, p. 278, fn.15.

2 Felipe II, Instructions from Felipe II to Governor Gómez Pérez Dasmariñas,

9 August, 1589. In Emma Blair and Alexander Robertson, The Philippine

Islands, 1493–1898, Mandaluyong: Cachos Hermanos, vol. 7, 1973, p. 156;

Pedro Chirino, ‘Relación de las Islas Filipinas, 1604’. In Blair and Robertson,

The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 12, 1973, p. 191; and ‘Animal In dus-

try in the Philippines; Horses’, Philippine Agricultural Review, vol. 4, no. 9,

1911, pp. 476–478. The island of Timor is also mentioned as a source of

supply. Frederick Wernstedt and J. E. Spencer, The Philippine Island World: A

Physical, Cultural and Regional Geography, Berkeley: University of California

Press, 1978, p. 211.

3 William Dampier, ‘A New Voyage Round the World, 1703’. In Blair and Robert-

son, The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 38, 1973, p. 282 and vol. 39,

1973, p. 87; and Nicholas Nicols, ‘Commerce of the Philippine Islands, 1759’.

In Blair and Robertson, The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 47, 1973, p.

302.


5 ‘Remarks on the Philippine Islands, and on their Capital Manila, 1819 to

1822, By an Englishman, 1828’. In Blair and Robertson, The Philippine Islands,

1493–1898, vol. 51, 1973, p. 128.

6 ‘Memoria Preliminar para la Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora

de la Cria Caballar de Este Archipiélago’ [Preliminary Report on the Manage-

ment of the Project to Reinvigorate and Improve the Breed of Horse of this

Archipelago], Philippine National Archives (hereafter PNA), Raza de Caballeria ,

Formento y Mejora, 1883.

7 This task is still often fulfilled by horse-carts in provincial cities and even in

Metro Manila.

8 Report of the Philippine Commission to the President, January 31, 1900,

Washington: Government Print Office, vol. 4, 1900, p. 80; and José Montero y

Vidal, El Archipiélago Filipino y las Islas Marianas, Carolinas y Palaos: Su His-

toria, Geografía y Estadística [The Philippine Archipelago and the Marianas,

Carolinas and Palau Islands: Their History, Geography and Statistical Profile]

Madrid: Imprenta y Fundición de Manuel Tello, 1886, p. 285. On roadways

in the Philippines, see Maria Isable Piquerras Villaldea, Las Comunicaciones

en Filipinas durante el Siglo XIX: Caminos, Carreteras y Puentes [Com muni-



cations in the Philippines During the 19th Century: Roads, Highways and

Bridges], Madrid: Archiviana, 2002.

9 An arroba is equivalent to approximately 11.5 kilograms.

10 ‘Expediente sobre Dejar Sin Efecto la Circular de Este Centro, de 27 de Julio

de 1886’ [Proceedings on Leaving in Effect the Circular of this Centre, of 27

July 1886], PNA, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7, 1887.

11 ‘Supresión del Impuesto sobre los Caballos, Abra 1889’ [Abolition of the

Tax on Horses, Abra 1889], PNA, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7,

1889; Blas Jerez to Director-General de Administración Civil, PNA, Carruajes,

Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7, 1889; and Maximo Loilla to Director-General de

Administración Civil, PNA, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7, 1889.

12 ‘Memoria de Ramon’, PNA, Servicios de Agricultoras, Cebu 1890–97, 1893;

and ‘Memoria sobre un Tranvia, Cebu’, PNA, Servicios de Agricultoras, Cebu

1890–97, 1893.

13 John Foreman, The Philippine Islands, Mandaluyong: Cacho Hermanos, 1985

(originally published 1899), p. 355; Marcelino Foronda, Insigne y Siempre: Leal

Essays on Spanish Manila, Manila: De La Salle University, History Depart ment

and the Research Center, 1986, p. 135; and Montero y Vidal, El Archipiélago

Filipino, 1886, p. 157.

14 Benito Legarda, After the Galleons: Foreign Trade, Economic Change and Entre-

preneur ship in the Nineteenth-Century Philippines, Quezon City: Ateneo de

Manila, 1999, pp. 286, 329.

15 It is sometimes quite impossible to differentiate between saddle and pack

use of horses as they might transport goods to market but be ridden back

after their loads had been sold. Such definitional niceties were the occa sion

of much dispute as to whether these animals should be excluded from

the taxes levied on the non-agricultural use of horses. ‘Expediente sobre

Reclamación , Iloilo 1884’ [Proceedings about the Complaint, Iloilo 1884], PNA,

Carruajes, Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7, 1884.

16 ‘Carruajes “La Union”’ [Carriages “La Union”], PNA, Carruajes, Carros y

Caballos , Bundle 7, 1889.

17 ‘Formación Previa en Averiguación’ [Review of the Case], PNA, Veterinarios, 1874.

18 Report of the Philippine Commission, 1903, Washington: Government Print-

ing Office, vol. 6, 1904, p. 423; and Report of the Philippine Commission,

1905, Washington: Government Printing Office, vol. 2, 1906, p. 459.

19 ‘Estado del Numero de Carruages, Carros y Caballos, Varias Provincias’,

1889; and ‘Relación de los Caballos’ [Pertaining to Horses], San Pascual 10

February 1889’, PNA, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7, 1889.

20 Remarks on the Philippine Islands, 1973, vol. 51, p. 128; José Maria Clotet, Fr

José Maria Clotet to Rev. Fr Rector of Ateneo Municipal, 11 May, 1889. In Blair


Notes 193

and Robertson, The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 43, 1973, p. 160; and

Charles Wilkes, Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition during

the Years 1838, 1839, 1840, 1841, 1842. In Blair and Robertson, The Philip-

pine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 43, 1973, p. 160. On the Wilkes Expedition, see

William Stanton, The Great United States Exploring Expedition of 1838–1842,

Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 1975.

21 José Montero y Vidal, Historia General de Filipinas, desde el Descubrimiento de

Dichas Islas Hasta Nuestros Días [A General History of the Philippines, Since

the Discovery of the Said Islands until Nowadays], Madrid: Establecimiento

Tipográfico de la Viuda é Hijos de Tello, 1895, vol. 3, p. 496.

22 ‘Espediente Original, Pampanga 1859’ [The First or Original Proceedings],

PNA, Carreras de Caballos, Bundle 1, 1851; and ‘Pliego de Condiciones de

Carrera de Caballo de la Provincia de la Pampanga’ [Details of the Main Horse

Track of the Province of Pampanaga], PNA, Carreras de Caballos, Bundle 1,

1879.

23 The Manila Jockey Club: 130 Years of Horse Racing in Southeast Asia, Manila:

Manila Jockey Club, 1997, pp. 54–60; and Filomeno Aguilar, Clash of Spirits:

The History of Power and Sugar Planter Hegemony on a Visayan Island,

Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1998, p. 192. Two new clubs were

founded in the 1930s, one in Cebu that proved a rather short-lived affair and

the Philippine Racing Club in Santa Ana, Manila that continues to hold races

today. On gambling, see Aguilar, Clash of Spirits, 1998, pp 32–62; and Greg

Bankoff, ‘Redefining Criminality: Gambling and Financial Expediency in the

Colonial Philippines 1764–1898’, Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, vol. 22,

1991, pp. 267–281.

24 The Manila Jockey Club: 130 Years of Horse Racing, 1997, p. 55.

25 ‘Live Stock and Poultry in the Philippines; Horses’, The Philippine Agricultural

Review, vol. 4, 1911, p. 481.

26 ‘Una Epizootia en Filipinas’ [An Epizootic in the Philippines], PNA, Veterin-

arios, 1888; Marshall McLennan, The Central Luzon Plain: Land and Society

on the Inland Frontier, Quezon City: Alemar-Phoenix Publishing House, 1980,

p. 169; and Reynaldo Ileto, ‘Hunger in Southern Tagalog, 1897–1898’. In

Reynaldo Ileto, Filipinos and their Revolution: Event, Discourse, and Histori-

ography, Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila Press, 1998, pp. 113–115.

27 ‘Una Epizootia en Filipinas’, 1888.

28 Report of the Philippine Commission, 1903, vol. 6, 1904, pp. 421, 469; M.

Mitzmain, ‘Collected Notes on the Insect Transmission of Surra in Carabaos’,

Philippine Agricultural Review, vol. 5, no. 12, 1912, p. 679; and David Kretzer,

‘How to Build Up and Improve a Herd or Flock (With Description of their

Most Common Diseases in the Philippines)’, Philippine Agricultural Review,

vol. 21, 1928, pp. 261, 262.



29 Report of the Philippine Commission, 1903, vol. 6, 1904, p. 421.

30 ‘Surra’, Philippine Agricultural Review, vol. 1, 1908, p. 119.

31 Census of the Philippine Islands, 1903, Washington: Bureau of the Census,

vol. 4, 1905, p. 248; and Census of the Philippine Islands, 1918, vol. 3, 1921,

p. 743.

32 The animal epidemics that decimated herds throughout the archipelago

caused untold hardship to Filipinos in terms of both agricultural product ivity

and overland mobility. Accounts of the war barely mention the former and

completely ignore the latter, when the importance of the small native horse that

provided the chief means of land transportation in the islands was enhanced

by an American naval blockade that restricted sea-borne com muni cations. For

an example of this omission, see Brian McAllister Linn, The Philippine War

1899–1902, Lawrence, Kansas: University of Kansas Press, 2000.

33 For a study of the effects of natural hazards on the Philippines, see Greg

Bankoff, Cultures of Disaster: Society and Natural Hazard in the Philippines,

Richmond: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003.

34 ‘Floods in the Philippines 1691–1911’, Archives of the Manila Observatory,

Box 10, 37.

35 Montero y Vidal, El Archipiélago Filipino, 1886, pp. 155–156, 329, 342, 361,

437; and Census of the Philippine Islands, 1918, 1921, vol. 3, p. 734.

36 Estadística Demografico-Sanitaria del Radio Municipal de L. M. I. Y. S. L.C. de

Manila de Enero a Diciembre de 1886, Defunciones [Demographic and Health

Statistics of the Municipal Authority of Manila from January to December

1886, Deaths], El Comercio, 3 March, 1888; ‘Estado del Numero de Carruages,

Carros y Caballos, Varias Provincias’, 1889.

37 Commander of the GCV to the Director-General of Civil Administration, 4

September, PNA, Veterinarios, 1888.

38 José Sora to Sor. Corregidor de Manila, PNA, Animales Sueltos, Corregimiento

de Manila, 1878; El Comandante Jefe to Corregidor de Manila, PNA, Animales

Sueltos, Corregimiento de Manila, 1884; ‘Yncidente sobre la Detención de

un Caballo’ [Incident to do with Detaining a Horse], PNA, Animales Sueltos,

Corregimiento de Manila, 1884; and Manuel de Vos to Gobernador Civil de

Provincia de Manila, PNA, Animales Sueltos, Corregimiento de Manila, 1896.

39 ‘La Aprehensión de 23 Individuos de la Provincia de la Laguna y Cavite,

Manila, 15 June 1891’ [The Detention of 23 Suspects from the Provinces

of Laguna and Cavite, Manila, 15 June 1891], PNA, Cuadrilleros, Bundle 1,

1891.

40 Francisco de Viana, Memorial of 1765. In Blair and Robertson, The Philip-

pine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 48, 1973, p. 305. Horse-flesh was also eaten

to a limited extent in other parts of Southeast Asia especially in the Batak,

Gayo and Minangkabau regions of Sumatra. William Gervase Clarence-Smith,


Notes 195

‘Horse Breeding in Mainland Southeast Asia and Its Borderlands’. In Peter

Boomgaard and David Henley (eds), Smallholders and Stockbreeders: His-

tories of Foodcrop and Livestock Farming in Southeast Asia, Leiden: KITLV

Press, 2004, pp. 189–210; and William Gervase Clarence-Smith, Chapter 2,

this volume.

41 ‘Sobre los Gravisimos Perjuicios, 30 May 1807’ [Concerning the Severest of

Wrongs], PNA, Spanish Manila, Reel 5, 1807; and Alfred Marche, Luzon and

Palawan, Manila: Filipiniana Book Guild, 1968 (originally published 1905), p.

75.

42 W. Best, ‘Suggestions for the Care of Horses in the Philippine Islands’, Philip-

pine Agricultural Review, vol. 7, 1914, pp. 330–331.

43 ‘Una Epizootia en Filipinas’, 1888; and Kretzer, ‘How to Build Up and Improve

a Herd or Flock’, 1928, pp. 262–263, 264.

44 ‘Tarifa de los Honorarios’ [Price of Services], PNA, Veterinarios, 1864; and

Kretzer, ‘How to Build Up and Improve a Herd or Flock’, 1928, pp. 266–280.

45 ‘Tarifa de los Honorarios’, 1864; and Felipe Jovantes to Guardia Civil Veterana ,

PNA, Veterinarios, 1874.

46 Report of the Philippine Commission, 1904, Washington: Government Print-

ing Office, 1905, vol. 2, p. 205–206; and Report of the Philippine Commission,

1913, Washington: Government Printing Office, 1914, pp. 299–301.

47 ‘Quarantine Stations’, Philippine Agricultural Review, vol. 3, 1910, p. 27;

and D. Palmer and Victor Buencamino, ‘The College of Veterinary Science,

University of the Philippines’, Philippine Agricultural Review, vol. 6, 1913,

pp. 368–370. On the history of veterinary medicine in the Philippines, see

Mauro Manuel et al (eds), A Century of Veterinary Medicine in the Philippines,

Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 2002.

48 The category of ‘other’ is undefined but presumably includes death from

accident and misadventure.

49 ‘Testimonio 22 June 1849’ [Testimony of 22 June 1849], PNA, Matanzas

y Limpieza de Reses, 1849; ‘Una Epizootia en Filipinas’, 1888; ‘Pliego de la

Matanza y Limpieza de Reses, Fecha 4 de Mayo de 1880, Manila 1 March 1889’

[Folder on the Slaughtering and Cleaning of Cattle, 1889], PNA, Matanzas

y Limpieza de Reses, 1889; and ‘Live Stock and Poultry in the Philippines;

Horses’, 1911, p. 482.

50 Report of the Philippine Commission to the President, January 31, 1900, vol.

4, 1900, p. 13.


437.

52 Census of the Philippine Islands, 1918, vol. 3, 1921, pp. 734–735. The 1918

Census of the Philippine Islands provides provincial population figures for



both 1903 and 1918. Moreover, the Southern Tagalog region comprising

Morong (Rizal), Laguna, Cavite, Tayabas as well as Batangas accounted for

nearly 26 per cent of all domesticated horses in 1886. Montero y Vidal, El

Archipiélago Filipino, 1886, pp. 155–156, 329, 342, 361, 437.

53 De Jong Boers, Chapter 4, this volume.


437. A comparison of domestic animal populations between 1886 and 1911

shows an enormous increase in the numbers of pigs (2,066,000), goats

(407,000) and sheep (88,000), and a corresponding decrease in carabaos

(713,000) and beef cattle (242,000) numbers, the decrease the result of the

rinderpest epidemic in the late nineteenth century. Horse numbers remain

largely unchanged (215,000). Manuel Avellano, Geografía de las Islas Filipinas ,

Manila: Tipografía del Colegio de Sto. Tomás, 1912, p. 46.

55 Bernice De Jong Boers, ‘Paardenfokkerij op Sumbawa (1500–1930)’ [Horse

Breeding in Sumbawa], Spiegel Historiael, vol. 10/11, no. 32 October/Novem-

ber 1997, pp. 438–443; and de Jong Boers, Chapter 4, this volume.

56 The recommended dietary regime suggested that a quarter of the animal’s

feed be given in the morning, the same at midday and the remainder in the

evening. A two-hour period was then allowed to digest this meal. It was

mistakenly assumed that horses required a longer period for digestion than

carabaos or bullocks and so could not be put to work straight after eating. In

fact, the opposite is true: unlike other common domesticated ungulates such

as cattle, sheep and goats, the horse breaks down the cellulose in fibrous

plants through a cecal digestive system rather than in a rumen and can

literally eat and run at the same time. Older animals were thought to require

more food as their teeth were deemed to be inefficient grinders and so to

waste much of the feed’s nutritional value. Based on this dietary regime, a

healthy horse was then expected to work a nine-hour day, two stints of four

and a half hours broken by the midday rest period. Best, ‘Suggestions for the

Care of Horses in the Philippine Islands’, 1914, pp. 328–329.

57 De Jong Boers, ‘Paardenfokkerij op Sumbawa (1500–1930)’, 1997, p. 441;

and Best, ‘Suggestions for the Care of Horses in the Philippine Islands’, 1914,

pp. 328–329.

58 E. Koert, ‘Stock Breeding in the Catanduanes Islands’, Philippine Agricultural

Review, vol. 5, 1912, p. 306.

59 Antonio de Morga, ‘Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas, 1609’. In Blair and Robert-

son, The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 16, 1973, pp. 90–91; and Report

of the Philippine Commission, 1905, vol. 2, 1906, p. 459.

60 De Jong Boers describes the practice of setting fire to the alang-alang or

imperata grass on Sumbawa to create additional pasturage. De Jong Boers,

‘Paardenfokkerij op Sumbawa (1500–1930)’, 1997, p. 440. As yet no evidence


Notes 197

of a similar technique has been noted in the Philippines though this more

likely reflects lack of research.

61 ‘Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de la Cria Caballar’ [Project to Re invigor-

ate and Improve the Breed of Horse of this Archipelago], PNA, Raza de

Caballeria de Filipinas, Formento y Mejora, 1881; and ‘Memoria Preliminar

para la Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de la Cria Caballar de

Este Archipiélago’ [Preliminary Report on the Management of the Project to

Reinvigorate and Improve the Breed of Horse of this Archipelago], 1883.


de la Cria Caballar de Este Archipiélago’, 1883.

63 Eleanor Melville, A Plague of Sheep: Environmental Consequences of the Con-

quest of Mexico, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994; and Greg

Bankoff and Sandra Swart, Chapter 1, this volume.

64 ‘Memoria Preliminar para la Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de

la Cria Caballar de Este Archipiélago’, 1883; De Jong Boers, ‘Paardenfokkerij

op Sumbawa (1500–1930)’, 1997, p. 441; and Clarence-Smith, ‘Horse Breed-

ing in Mainland Southeast Asia’, 2004.

Chapter 7. Adapting to a New Environment: The Philippine Horse

Greg Bankoff

An earlier version of this chapter appeared as Greg Bankoff, ‘A Question of

Breeding: Zootechny and Colonial Attitudes Towards the Tropical Environment

in Late Nineteenth Century Philippines’, Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 60, no. 2,

2001, pp. 413–437 and Greg Bankoff, ‘Bestia Incognita: The Horse and Its History

in the Philippines 1880–1930’, Anthrozoös, vol. 17, no. 1, 2004, pp. 3–25.


2 The animals appear slightly coarser in build, with a longer and more massive

head with some individuals retaining a slight preorbital depression, large

first premolars and only 17 pairs of ribs that were characteristic of the Sulu

Horse. [No author], ‘Animal Industry in the Philippines; Horses’, Philippine

Agricultural Review, vol. 4, no. 9, 1911, p. 479. It was also generally con-

sidered to have ‘less style, action, and vigor than the northern pony’. C.

Edwards, ‘The Live-stock Industry of the Philippines’, Philippine Agricultural

Review, vol. 9, no. 2, 1916, p. 140.

3 [No author], ‘Animal Industry’, 1911, p. 480.

4 Antonio de Morga, ‘Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas [1609]’. In Emma Blair and

Alexander Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, Mandaluyong:

Cachos Hermanos, 1973, vol. 16, pp. 90–91.

5 See Sandra Swart, Chapter 8, this volume.



6 ‘Early Franciscan Missions [1649]’. In Blair and Robertson (eds), The Philip-

pine Islands, 1493–1898, 1973, vol. 35, p. 299; ‘Remarks on the Philippine

Islands, and on their Capital Manila, 1819 to 1822 By an Englishman [1828]’.

In Blair and Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, 1973, vol.

51, p. 128; and Estevan Vivít, Reseña Estadística de las Islas Filipinas en 1845

[Current Statistics of the Philippine Islands in 1845], Barcelona: Imprenta de

A. Brosi, no date, p. 30.

7 William Gervase Clarence-Smith, ‘Horse Breeding in Mainland Southeast Asia

and Its Borderlands’. In Peter Boomgaard and David Henley (eds), Small-

holders and Stock-breeders: Histories of Foodcrop and Livestock Farming in

Southeast Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2004, pp. 189–210; Peter Boomgaard,

Chapters 3, this volume; Bernice de Jong Boers, Chapter 4, this volume.

8 Bernice de Jong Boers, ‘Paardenfokkerij op Sumbawa (1500–1930)’ [Horse

Breeding in Sumbawa], Spiegel Historiael, vol. 10/11, no. 32 October/Novem-

ber, 1997, p. 441; and De Jong Boers, Chapter 4, this volume.

9 ‘Expediente sobre la Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de la

Cria Caballar de este Archipiélago’ [Proceedings on the Management of the

Project to Reinvigorate and Improve the Breed of Horse of this Archipelago],

Philippine National Archives (hereafter PNA), Raza de Caballeria, Formento y

Mejora, 1881.


de la Cria Caballar de Este Archipiélago’[Preliminary Report on the Manage-

ment of the Project to Reinvigorate and Improve the Breed of Horse of this

Archipelago], PNA, Raza de Caballeria, Formento y Mejora, 1883.

11 José Aguilar, Colonización de Filipinas [The Colonisation of the Philippines],

Madrid: Establecimiento Tipográfico de Alfredo Alonso, 1893, p. 71; and

‘Expediente sobre la Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de la

Cria Caballar’, 1881.


de la Cria Caballar’, 1883.

13 Ibid. The standard contemporary measurement for horses is a ‘hand’ equiva-

lent to four inches or 10.16 cm and measured at the shoulder. Modern

horses are regarded as small between 10–12 hands (1.02–1.22 metres) in

height, medium around 15–16 hands (1.52–1.63 metres), and large over 16

hands (1.63 metres). Spanish measurements are calculated from data given

on horse measurements in both cuartas and metric calibrations. ‘Inventario

de los Cinco Caballos Arabes del Estado que Existen en este Gobierno que por

Orden del Exmo Sor. Gobor. Gral. del Archipielago se Remiten a Disposicion

del Ecmo. Sor. Director Gral. de Admon. Civil por Conducto del Vapor ‘Elcano’,

12 February’ [Record of the Five Arab Stallions Currently in the Possession

of the State that by Order of the Governor-general of this Archipelago are


Notes 199

placed at the Disposition of the Director-general of Civil Ad minis tration

by Means of the Steamship ‘Elcano’ ], PNA, Raza de Caballeria de Filipinas,

Formento y Mejora, 1890.

14 Source for Figure 7.1 Nemesio Catalan, ‘The Animal Problem of the Future

Philippine Army’, Philippine Journal of Animal Industry, vol. 2, no. 1, 1935,

p. 70.

15 Measurements from 722 (wrongly stated as 772) animals were compiled and

the proportion extrapolated and then applied to the estimated horse popu-

lation of 350,000.

16 The minimum height requirement for riding horses in the U.S. Army was 58

inches though it was considered that beasts of 50 inches and above would

have to serve as infantry machine gun transports in the Philippines through

force of circumstances. Catalan, ‘The Animal Problem of the Future Philip-

pine Army’, 1935, pp. 71–72.

17 Aguilar, Colonización de Filipinas, 1893, p. 260.

18 Report of the Philippine Commission to the President, January 31, 1900,

Washing ton: Government Print Office, 1900, vol. 3, p. 308.

19 Several fish species in the Zuiderzee, the inland sea of the Netherlands, have

also diminished in size since the completion of the Afsluitdijk in 1932 that

separated it from the North Sea and effectively began the process that is

turning its previously saline waters into a freshwater lake, the Ijsselmeer.

20 Bankoff, Chapter 6, this volume.

21 The British in Lesotho pursued a similar policy; see Sandra Swart, Chapter 9,

this volume.

22 The five members of the subcommittee included Lieutenant Colonel of Artil-

lery Arturo de Molins, Captain Commander of Cavalry José Sacarte, Veterinary

Professor of Cavalry Ginés Geis, Brigadier of Engineers Felipe Lacorte and

Brigadier of Cavalry José Sanchez Mira. There is some ambiguity over the

year in which this committee was actually convened: one docu ment dated

September 1883, though admittedly a copy, refers to it being established

on 23 April of that year (Raza de Caballeria de Filipinas 1883), but a second

document that appears to be dated June 1881 clearly makes reference to

the same committee’s recommendations (Raza de Caballeria de Filipinas

1881). Yet a third document indicates that the second document was,

in fact, drawn up in 1884. Respectively ‘Memoria Preliminar para la

Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de la Cria Caballar’, 1883;

‘Expediente sobre la Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de

la Cria Caballar’, 1881; and ‘Expediente sobre Cumplimiento de la Real

Orden No 275 De 30 Marzo de 1885 para el Fomento y Meyora de la Raza

Caballar en las Islas, 1 May’ [Proceedings on the Implementation of the

Royal Order No.275 of 30 March 1885 to Promote and Improve the Breed



of Horse in the Islands], PNA, Raza de Caballeria de Filipinas, Formento y

Mejora, 1888.



24 Manuel Avellano, Geografía de las Islas Filipinas, Manila: Tipografía del Colegio

de Sto. Tomás, 1912, p. 52. This attempt was no more successful than prev-

ious Spanish endeavours with many of the horses falling victim to surra,

glanders and other diseases and the animals adversely affected by ticks, flies

and poor pasturage. Carlos Diaz, ‘Breeding Performance of Arabian Stallions

of the Bureau of Animal Industry’, Philippine Journal of Animal Industry, vol.

3, no. 4, 1936, pp. 263–264.



26 Thomas Glick, ‘Spain’. In Thomas Glick (ed.), The Comparative Reception of

Darwin, Austin and London: University of Texas Press, 1974, pp. 307–308.



28 Montero y Vidal mentions the establishment of a remonta in January 1860

specifically to improve the breed of horses for the regiment of lancers but

provides no other information or reference to this or any subsequent venture.

José Montero y Vidal, Historia General de Filipinas, desde el Descubrimiento

de Dichas Islas Hasta Nuestros Días, Madrid : Establecimiento Tipográfico de

la Viuda é Hijos de Tello, 1895, vol. 3, p. 269.


Cria Caballar’, 1881; and ‘Memoria Preliminar para la Ejecución del Proyecto

de Renovación y Mejora de la Cria Caballar’, 1883.




de la Cria Caballar’, 1883. Costs included a purchase price (150 pesos),

transportation (90 pesos), maintenance during acclimatisation (40 pesos)

and contingencies (20 pesos).

32 ‘Expediente sobre Cumplimiento de la Real Orden No 275 De 30 Marzo de

1885 para el Fomento y Meyora de la Raza Caballar en las Islas, 1 May’ 1888.

33 Investor confidence was dented by the mercantile crisis and repeated agri-

cultural calamities, especially the rinderpest epidemic that affected the

colony during the 1880s. Bankoff, Chapter 6, this volume. The decision to

buy more stallions than mares in India reflects the Commission’s views

about the relative superiority of the female over the male horse in the Philip-

pines as well as the practicalities of destroying an estimated existing 90,000

mares and the wealth they represented. Moreover, the use of local mares as


Notes 201

a breeding base was the general practice followed in other countries, espe-

cially Great Britain and Spain. ‘Expediente sobre la Ejecución del Proyecto

de Renovación y Mejora de la Cria Caballar’, 1881. Such ideas also reflect

the prevailing views on ‘prepotency’, that pedigree was supposed ‘to ensure

that pure-bred sires and dams exercised a disproportionate influence on

resulting offspring even when mated with more ordinary animals’. Harriet

Ritvo, The Platypus and the Mermaid and other Figments of the Classifying

Imagination, Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 1997, p. 115.

34 ‘Expediente sobre Cumplimiento de la Real Orden No 275 de 30 Marzo de

1885 para el Fomento y Meyora de la Raza Caballar en las Islas, 17 Septem-

ber’, PNA, Raza de Caballeria de Filipinas, Formento y Mejora, 1888.

35 Ibid.,‘Expediente … 9 October …’. Another animal subsequently became ill but

it is unclear whether this was as a consequence of the voyage or something

contracted subsequent to arriving in the Philippines. Heavy losses at sea

are blamed on the horse’s inability to vomit. Wendy Doniger, ‘Presidential

Address: “I Have Scinde”: Flogging a Dead (White Male Orientalist) Horse’,

Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 58, no. 4, 1999, p. 949.

36 ‘Expediente sobre Cumplimiento de la Real Orden No 275 de 30 Marzo de

1885 para el Fomento y Meyora de la Raza Caballar en las Islas, 17 Septem-

ber’, 1888.

37 Ibid., ‘Expediente … 29 October…’; ‘Expediente … 5 November … ’, ‘Expediente …

9 November … ’, ‘Expediente … 15 November … ’, Expediente … 7 December …’.

38 The calculation is based on the assumption that all 25 horses were eventu-

ally sold at an average price of 643 pesos, so amounting to a total of 16,075

pesos compared to an initial outlay of 14,000 pesos. ‘Expediente sobre

Cumplimiento de la Real Orden No 275 de 30 Marzo de 1885 para el Fomento

y Meyora de la Raza Caballar en las Islas, 5 November …’; ‘Expediente … 9

November …’; and ‘Expediente …15 November …’.




Doniger, ‘Presidential Address: “I Have Scinde”: Flogging a Dead (White Male

Orientalist) Horse’, 1999, p. 949; and Clarence-Smith, ‘Horse Breeding in

Main land Southeast Asia and Its Borderlands’, 2004. The French were also

interested in improving cavalry mounts through selective crossbreeding in

Algeria after 1855. General Eugène Daumas, Director of Algerian Affairs at

the Ministry of War, was the author of a treatise to such effect and instru-

mental in the appointment of Antoine Richard du Cantal, an expert on

the military and agricultural uses of large quadrupeds as President of the

Permanent Commission on Algeria. Michael Osborne, Nature, the Exotic, and

the Science of French Colonialism, Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana



University Press, 1994, pp. 148, 151. A similar interest in breed improve ment

was manifest in Lesotho; see Swart, Chapter 9, this volume.

41 Georges Buffon, Histoire Naturelle Générale Et Particulière. 44 vols, Paris:

1749–1804; and Jean Baptiste Lamarck, Philosophie Zoologique, 2 vols, Paris:

[No publisher], 1809.

42 Warwick Anderson, ‘Climates of Opinion: Acclimitization in Nineteenth-Cen-

tury France and England’, Victorian Studies, vol. 35, no. 2, 1992, p. 143.

43 Isidore Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, Acclimatation et Domestication des Animaux

Utiles, Paris: [No publisher] 1861, p. 116. Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire established

the Société Zoologique et Botanique d’Acclimatation in Paris in 1854. A simi-

lar Imperial Russian Society for the Acclimatization of Animals and Plants,

patterned after the French model, was formed in Moscow.

44 David Arnold, ‘Tropical Medicine before Manson’. In David Arnold (ed.) Warm

Climates and Western Medicine: The Emergence of Tropical Medicine, 1500–

1930, Amsterdam and Atlanta, Georgia: Rodopi, 1996, pp. 5–10.

45 Lynn White, ‘The Historical Roots of Our Ecological Crisis’, Science, vol. 155,

1967, pp. 1203–1207.

46 Glick, ‘Spain’, 1974, p. 327.



48 Aguilar, Colonización de Filipinas, p. 259.



50 ‘Expediente sobre la Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de la Cria

Caballar’, 1881; and ‘Memoria Preliminar para la Ejecución del Proyecto de

Renovación y Mejora de la Cria Caballar’, 1883. Even among those who maintained

acclimatisation was possible, some considered the sudden transfer ence to

an extreme climate as prejudicial to the health of the organ ism, while a more

gradual exposure, through stages to different conditions, made acclimatisation

to almost any part of the earth’s surface possible. David Livingstone, ‘Human

Acclimatization: Perspectives on a Contested Field of Inquiry in Science, Medicine

and Geography’, History of Science, vol. 25, 1987, pp. 379–382.

51 Probably one of the Barrettos and a major nineteenth century entrepreneur

(personal communication from Dan Doeppers, University of Wisconsin,

Madison).



53 Ibid.

54 Anderson, ‘Climates of Opinion: Acclimatization in Nineteenth-Century France

and England’, 1992, p. 135.


Notes 203


Cria Caballar’, 1881; and ‘Memoria Preliminar para la Ejecución del Proyecto

de Renovación y Mejora de la Cria Caballar’, 1883.


de la Cria Caballar’, 1883; and Report of the Philippine Commission to the

President, January 31, 1900, vol. 4, p. 13.

57 Spain was heavily dependent by the nineteenth century on mules from

France, whose traders took advantage of the lack of local stock to export

the animals across the Pyrenees ‘in prodigious numbers, the French breed-

ers carrying away in exchange a river of gold’. ‘Memoria Preliminar para la

Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de la Cria Caballar’, 1883.

58 Ibid. and E. Koert, ‘Stock Breeding in the Catanduanes Islands’, Philippine

Agri cultural Review, vol. 5, no. 6, 1912, p. 306. In the event, such practices

were unlikely to have been practised as stallions become loud and violent

when enclosed with mares and can be a danger to both them and their foals.



60 On the other hand, castration normally increases an animal’s life-span. The

parallels with feminist discourse are informative, particularly as regards

gender and colonialism and concepts about Oriental or Asian ‘Others’. See

Vron Ware, Beyond the Pale: White Women, Racism and History, London

and New York: Verso, 1992; Antoinette Burton, Burdens of History: British

Feminists, Indian Women, and Imperial Culture, 1865–1915, Chapel Hill and

London: University of North Carolina Press, 1994; and Anne McClintock,

Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Context, New

York and London: Routledge, 1995.


and de Jong Boers, Chapter 4, this volume.

62 W. Best, ‘Suggestions for the Care of Horses in the Philippine Islands’, Philip-

pine Agricultural Review, vol. 7, 1914, p. 331.

63 [No author] ‘Animal Industry in the Philippines; Horses’, 1911, p. 482; and H.

L. Casey, Director of Studs to the Chief of the Bureau of Agriculture, Baguio,

31 August 1905. In Report of the Philippine Commission, 1905, Washington:

Government Printing Office, 1906, p. 460.

64 Koert, ‘Stock Breeding in the Catanduanes Islands’, 1912, p. 307.

65 Keith Chivers, ‘The Supply of Horses in Great Britain in the Nineteenth Century’.

In F. Thompson (ed.), Horses in European Economic History: A Preliminary

Canter, Reading: The British Agricultural History Society, 1983, p. 41.

66 Warwick Anderson, ‘Immunities of Empire: Race, Disease, and the New Trop-

ical Medicine, 1900–1920’, Bulletin of the History of Medicine, vol. 70, 1996,

pp. 94–118; Mark Harrison, ‘ “The Tender Frame of Man”: Disease, Climate,



and Racial Difference in India and the West Indies, 1760–1860’, Bulletin of

the History of Medicine, vol. 70, 1996, pp. 68–93; and Philip Curtin, Death

by Migration: Europe’s Encounters with the Tropical World in the Nineteenth

Century, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989, pp. 87–90.

67 Anderson, ‘Climates of Opinion: Acclimatization in Nineteenth-Century France

and England’, 1992, p. 138.

68 Polygenism posits a separate origin for each human race and explains the

subsequent diversity between races as the result of miscegenation. Mono genism,

on the other hand, holds that all human races share a single prim ordial origin.

Osborne, Nature, the Exotic, and the Science of French Colonial ism, 1994, p. 87.

As a broad generalisation, those supporting the former regarded acclimatisation

as impossible and favoured economic exploitation of the tropics, while those

supporting the latter believed in acclimatisation and favoured colonial settlement

overseas. Livingstone, ‘Human Acclima tiza tion’, 1987, p. 384.

69 Bankoff, Chapter 6, this volume.

70 Livingstone,‘Human Acclimatization’, 1987, p. 382; and David Livingstone,

‘Tropical Climate and Moral Hygiene; The Anatomy of a Victorian Debate’,

The British Journal for the History of Science, vol. 32, 1999, p. 104.



72 Curtin, Death by Migration, 1989, p. 42; and Warwick Anderson, ‘“Where

Every Prospect Pleases and Only Man is Vile”: Laboratory Medicine as Colonial

Discourse’. In Vicente Rafael (ed.), Discrepant Histories: Translocal Essays on

Filipino Cultures, Manila: Anvil Publishing, 1995, p. 89.

73 Lois Magner, A History of Medicine, New York: Marcel Dekker Inc., 1992, p.

107.

74 David Arnold, ‘India’s Place in the Tropical World, 1170–1930’, Journal of

Imperial and Commonwealth History, vol. 26, no. 1, 1998, p. 5.

75 R. Gonzalez y Martín, Filipinas y Sus Habitantes, Béjar: Establecimiento Tipo-

gráfico de la Viuda de Aguilar, 1896. pp. 21–25. José Montero y Vidal, interest-

ingly, was one of the few Spanish authors to have a very different impression

of the tropical climate: ‘that of Luzon, in general, is very benign. The sky

clear, fine weather and bright, the island of Luzon, like all the Philip pines, is a

country safe and agreeable to live in.’ However, he does admit that it was better

for adults than for the young. José Montero y Vidal, El Archi piélago Filipino y

las Islas Marianas, Carolinas y Palaos: Su Historia, Geografía y Estadística [The

Philippine Archipelago and the Marianas, Carolinas and Palau Islands: Their

History, Geography and Statistical Profile], Madrid: Imprenta y Fundición de

Manuel Tello, 1886, p. 262.

76 Felipe II, The Audiencia of Manila Re-established, 26 November 1595. In Blair

and Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, 1973, vol. 9, p. 190.


Notes 205

These instructions were meticulously carried out, using an embroidered

cloth of red velvet. Pedro Desquibel, ‘Reception of the Royal Seal at Manila 8

June, 1598’. In Blair and Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898,

1973, vol. 10, p. 135.

77 Diego de Rueda y Mendoza, ‘Royal Festivities at Manila, 1 August, 1625’. In

Blair and Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, 1973, vol. 22,

p. 59.

78 Sinibaldo de Mas, Informe sobre el Estado de las Islas Filipinas En 1842

[Report on the State of the Philippine Islands in 1842], Madrid: Imprenta de

L. Sancha, 1843, pp. 52, 62; Doniger, ‘Presidential Address: “I Have Scinde”:

Flogging a Dead (White Male Orientalist) Horse’, 1999, p. 947; Boomgaard,

Chapter 3, this volume; and De Jong Boers, Chapter 4, this volume. Indio is the

term used by the Spanish to denote a person indigenous to the Philippines.

Mestizo refers to a person of mixed parentage, usually Chinese and Indio

(more properly called a Mestizo Sangley) but also a person of mixed Spanish

and Indio heritage (more properly called a Mestizo Español).

79 Gómez Pérez Dasmariñas to the King of Camboja, 27 September, 1593. In

Blair and Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, 1973, vol. 9, p.

78. De Jong Boers mentions that horses on Sumbawa were frequently given

as ‘gifts’ to foreigners in exchange for opium and weaponry. De Jong Boers,

‘Paardenfokkerij op Sumbawa (1500–1930)’, 1997, p. 442.

80 Sebastian Hurtado de Corcuera to Felipe IV, 30 June, 1636. In Blair and

Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, 1973, vol. 26, p. 196;

and Mas, Informe sobre el Estado de las Islas Filipinas, 1843: Ejercito 4.

The cavalry comprised one regiment of four squadrons and six hundred

mounted customs officials. The original 1843 edition of Sinibaldo de

Mas’s Informe sobre el Estado de las Islas Filipinas is not paginated

consecutively throughout the work but only numbered on a section-

by-section basis.

81 Alfred Crosby, Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of Europe,

900–1900, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993, p. 194; and Living-

stone, ‘Human Acclimatization’, 1987, p. 380. Crosby quotes from colonial

accounts of horses in the South American Pampa as existing in such numbers

‘that they cover the face of the earth’ or ‘look like woods from a distance’ in

Ecological Imperialism, pp. 182–187.

82 Curtin, Death by Migration, 1989, p. 4. For Spanish records on comparable

health rates among troops dating from 1884, see, Ministerio de la Guerra,

Resumen de la Estadística Sanitaria del Ejercito Española [Summary of the

Health Statistics of the Spanish Army], Madrid.

83 Anderson, ‘“Where Every Prospect Pleases and Only Man is Vile”: Laboratory

Medicine as Colonial Discourse’, 1995, pp. 85–86.



Chapter 8. Riding High – Horses, Power and Settler Society in Southern Africa, c. 1654–1840

Sandra Swart

This chapter was published in an earlier incarnation as ‘Riding High – horses,

power and settler society, c. 1654–1840.’ Kronos, vol. 29, Environmental History,

Special Issue, Nov. 2003, and draws on themes developed first in Sandra Swart,

‘ “Horses! Give me more horses!” – white settler society and the role of horses

in the making of early modern South Africa’ in K. Raber and T. J. Tucker (eds)

The Culture of the Horse – Status, Discipline and Identity in the Early Modern

World, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005, pp. 311–328. I would like to record

my indebtedness especially to Andrew Bank and to Bob Edgar, Malcolm Draper,

Albert Grundlingh, Helena Lategan, Frans van der Merwe, Graham Walker and to

the South African National Research Foundation.

1 For the horse, particularly for descriptions of how the horse played a role

in major shifts in the balance of power in West Africa, see Robin Law, The

Horse in West African History, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980.

2 A.W. Crosby, Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of Europe, 900

to 1900, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986.

3 On more general horse history see Harold Barclay, The Role of the Horse in

Man’s Culture, London: J. A. Allen & Co., 1980; Charles Chevenix-Trench, A

History of Horsemanship, London: Doubleday, 1980; and Juliet Clutton-Brock,

Horse Power, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992. For the early South

African period see P. J. Schreuder, ‘The Cape Horse – its origin, breeding and

development in the Union of South Africa’, PhD, thesis, Cornell University,

1915; and H. A. Wyndham, The Early History of the Thoroughbred Horse

in South Africa, London: Humphrey Milford/Oxford University Press, 1924;

and J. J. Nel, ‘Perdeteelt in Suid-Afrika, 1652–1752’, MA thesis, University of

Stellenbosch, 1930. For an analysis of the equine dimension of the period

leading up to and during the South African War, see Harold Sessions, Two

Years with the Remount Commission, London: Chapman and Hall, 1903, a

useful primary source. For popular reading see Jose Burman, To Horse and

Away, Cape Town: Human and Rousseau, 1993 or Daphne Child, Saga of the

South African Horse, Cape Town, Howard Timmins, 1967.

4 Johan Anthoniszoon van Riebeeck (21 April 1619–18 January 1677) joined

the VOC and served as an assistant surgeon in the East Indies, before under-

taking the command of the initial Dutch settlement in the future South

Africa, and died in Batavia on Java in 1677.

5 R. Ross, Cape of Torments: Slavery and Resistance in South Africa, London:

Rout ledge, Kegan and Paul, 1983.

6 For a discussion of the nomenclature, see Shula Marks, ‘Khoisan Resistance

to the Dutch in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries’, Journal of Afri-


Notes 207

can History, 13, 1972, pp. 55–80. ‘Hottentot’ referred to a pastoral grouping

known as ‘Khoikhoi’ today and ‘Bushman’ to a people recognised variously

today as ‘Bushman’ or ‘San’. Today many academics refer to these pastoral-

ists by the name they called themselves: Khoekhoen, meaning ‘real people’.

By contrast the ‘Bushmen’ were principally hunters, known as Soaqua, who

had no or few domestic animals.

7 For a discussion of this see Richard Elphick, Kraal and Castle: Khoikhoi and

the Founding of White South Africa, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1977,

pp. 90–110.

8 H. C. V. Leibbrandt, Précis of the Cape Archives: Letters Despatched 1652–62,

2 vols, Cape Town: vol. I, 1898, vol. II, 1900, vol. I, p. 31.

9 Travelling by ox was a deeply unsatisfying mode of transport – as David

Living stone observed two centuries later. David Livingstone, Missionary Travels

and Researches in South Africa, London: Murray, 1857.

10 For a discussion see Thomas Dunlap, Nature and the English Diaspora – En-

viron ment and History in the United States, Canada, Australia and New Zealand,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999.

11 Leibbrandt, Letters Despatched ,vol. I, 1898, no. 493, p. 670.

12 It was a rudimentary system: horses turned the ground over with a massive

plough requiring eight or ten horses, and the harvested grain was trodden

out by horses on circular threshing floors in the open air.

13 A. J. H. van der Walt, Die Ausdehnung der Kolonie am Kap der Guten Hoffnung

(1700–1779): eine historisch-okonomische Untersuchung uber das Werden

und Wesen des Pionierlebens im 18. Jahrhunderd, Berlin: Ebering, 1928, p. 2.

14 Leibbrandt, Letters Despatched, vol. I, 1898, no. 493, p. 143.

15 Ibid.

16 J. van Riebeeck, H.B. Thom (ed.), Journal of Jan Van Riebeeck, vol. II, 1656–

1658, Cape Town: A.A. Balkema, 1954, p. 116; S. F. du Plessis, Die verhaal van

die dagverhaal van Jan van Riebeeck [The narrative of the diary of Jan van

Riebeeck], D. Litt. thesis, University of Pretoria, 1934; Dagverhaal van Jan

van Riebeek [Diary of Jan van Riebeeck], Gravenhage: Nijhoff, 1892–1893, p.

434; Leibbrandt, Letters Despatched, vol. I, 1898, no. 493, p. 143.

17 Dagverhaal van Jan van Riebeeck, 1892–1893, p. 446.

18 Leibbrandt, Letters Despatched, vol. I, 1898, p. 407.

19 Van Riebeeck, Journal of Jan Van Riebeeck, vol. I, 1954, pp. 272, 307.

20 Leibbrandt, Letters Despatched, vol. I, 1898, p. 1041.

21 H.C.V. Leibbrandt, Precis of the Archives of the Cape of Good Hope: Letters

Re ceived, 1695–1708, Cape Town: Richards, vol. I, 1898, vol. II, 1900, p. 253;

and Van der Walt, Die Ausdehnung der Kolonie, p. 2.



22 Company servants were initially prohibited from starting local industries

and freedom of trade was forbidden because free enterprise was sup-

posed to be restricted to the VOC. Van Riebeeck argued that free burghers

should be allowed to trade, farm and help with defence for some

time. In 1676, VOC official policy changed: it was contended that a

Dutch colony should be nurtured at the Cape to stimulate agricultural

production.

23 Colin P. Groves, Horses, Asses and Zebras in the Wild, Sanibel: Ralph Curtis

Books, 1974. The last quagga died in 1883 in an Amsterdam zoo.

24 Leibbrandt, Letters Despatched, no. 494, p. 943.

25 Gerrit van Spaan, De Gelukzoeker, Rotterdam: De Vries, 1752, p. 28; J. van

Rie beeck, Journal of Jan Van Riebeeck, vol. III, 1954, 14 December 1660, p.

300.

26 J. van Riebeeck, Journal of Jan Van Riebeeck, vol. III, 1954, 14 December

1660, p. 300.

27 Peter Kolbe, Naaukeurige en uitvoerige beschryving van Kaap de Goede

Hoop, Amsterdam: B. Lakeman, 1727, p. 73.

28 This does not appear to have been the case without exception. Thomas

Baines, for example, recorded that ‘even the wild quaggas were dying of the

horse-sick ness’, in March 1850, Journal of Residence in Africa, vol. II, Cape

Town, The Van Riebeeck Society, 1961, p. 217.

29 A. Sparrman, A Voyage to the Cape of Good Hope, Towards the Antarctic Polar

Circle, and Around the World, But Chiefly into the Country of the Hotten tots

and Caffres, From the Year 1772 to 1776 [1785], Cape Town: Van Riebeeck

Society, 1975–1977, pp. 216–217.

30 A span of zebras were even briefly utilised to run stagecoaches to Pieters-

burg at end of nineteenth century.

31 Captain Horace Hayes broke a young Burchell’s zebra in Pretoria in 1892.

The Mazawattee Company also ran two four-in-hand teams of zebras for

advertising purposes. See Clive Richardson, The Horse Breakers, London:

J.A. Allen, 1998, pp. 121–122. A professor of natural history at Edinburgh

from 1882–1927, Cossar Ewart crossed a zebra stallion with pony mares in

order to disprove telegony, and a secondary aim of these experiments was

to produce a draught animal for South Africa that was less subject to local

diseases. W.J. Broderip, Zoological Recreations, London: H. Colburn, 1847;

Special Collections L.14.29, University of Edinburgh.

32 A ‘hand’ measures 4 inches or 10.16 cm.

33 Schreuder, ‘The Cape Horse’, 1915.

34 Later a handful of these were recaptured (1655 and 1656) and brought to the

Cape.


Notes 209

35 Sumbawa entered into treaty relations with the Dutch East India Company

in 1674, but supplied horses earlier and established itself as chief horse

purveyor.

36 Leibbrandt, Letters Despatched, vol. I, 1898 no. 493, p. 1118.

37 Leibbrandt, Letters Despatched, vol. II, 1900, p. 311; Letters Despatched, vol.

I, 1898 no. 493, pp. 1098–99. Similarly, in West Africa, for example, horses

were often used as symbolic demonstrations of power, in contexts where

they were of little military value. Law, The Horse in West African History, p.

193.

38 Leibbrandt, Letters Despatched, vol. II, 1900 no. 494, p. 65.

39 Leibbrandt, Letters Despatched, vol. I, 1898 no. 493, p. 1098. Later, in the

early nineteenth century, when the San suffered massive suppression, the

traveller Burchell recorded that ‘A troop of horsemen is the most alarming

sight which can present itself to a kraal [homestead] of Bushmen [San] in

an open plain, as they then give themselves up for lost, knowing that under

such circumstances, there is no escaping from these animals.’ Burchell,

Travels in the Interior of Southern Africa, 1824, p.187.

40 B. Tuchman, The Proud Tower, Macmillan, New York, 1966. This is buttressed

by psycho-social analysis by, for example, Freud, who described the horse

as symbol of power. Psychologists suggest that literally ‘looking down on

others’ from the back of a horse may increase feelings of pride and self-

esteem. D. Toth, ‘The Psychology of Women and Horses’. In GaWaNí PonyBoy

(ed.), Of Women and Horses, Irvine: BowTie, 2000, p. 36.

41 A horse at pasture requires an acre to sustain its nutritional needs, as a rule,

although this varies according to the type of horse, energy output of horse,

the nature of the grass, and seasonal climatic variation.

42 As observed in a 1603 text, ‘in order to sustain political societies, and in

order to protect the people who make up these societies, you cannot do

without the horse’. Quoted in Pia Cuneo, ‘Beauty and the Beast: Art and

Science in Early Modern European Equine Imagery’, Journal of Early Modern

History, vol. 4, nos. 3–4, 2000, p. 269. Seventeenth century European icono-

graphic representations of the horse emphasised serenely regal control by

(patrician) riders.

43 Lisa Jardine and Jerry Brotton, Global Interests: Renaissance Art between East

and West, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2000, p. 145.

44 L. Thompson, A History of South Africa, New Haven, Yale University Press,

1990, p. 35.

45 In any event, the various differentiated breeds of horses were simply not

avail able.

46 Horse maiming was sometimes undoubtedly a form of social rebellion in

Europe, for example. It was also a form of psychological terror, of symbolic



murder, that resulted from personal feuds between members of the same

social class. Roger Yates, Chris Powell, Piers Beirne, ‘Horse Maiming in the

English Countryside: Moral Panic, Human Deviance, and the Social Con-

struction of Victimhood’, Soci ety & Animals, vol. 9, no. 1, 2001, pp. 1–23.

G. Elder, J. Wolch, and J. Emel, ‘Race, place, and the bounds of humanity’,

Society & Animals, vol. 6, no. 2, 1998, pp. 183–202.

47 Elder, Wolch and Emel, ‘Race, place, and the bounds of humanity’, p. 184.

48 For a discussion of Cape defences see O. F. Mentzel, Life at the Cape in the

Mid-eighteenth Century [1784], trans. M. Greenless, reprinted Cape Town:

Darter Brothers, 1920, pp. 146–156.

49 Members of the kommando were expected to provide their own mount and

saddlery, rifle and 30 rounds of ammunition. The kommando was made up

of mounted marksmen, without uniforms and formal training. Christiaan

Grimbeek, ‘Die Totstandkoming van die Unieverdegingsmag met Spesifieke

Verwysing na die Verdedigingswette van 1912 and 1922’ [The Establishment

of the Union De fence Force with Specific Reference to the Defence Acts of

1912 and 1922], D.Phil thesis, University of Pretoria, 1985, p 7.

50 P. H. Frankel, Pretoria’s Praetorians, Civil-military Relations in South Africa,

Cam bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984.

51 Law, The Horse in West African History, 1980, p. 184.

52 Wyndam, History of the Thoroughbred, 1924, p. 97. Moreover, from the time

the Sotho, for example, overcame socio-political and economic hurdles and

acquired the first horse, the ‘ox without horns’ as they called it, in 1825, they

re-invented themselves as an equine society. Just as in the Americas, horses

endowed their owners with enhanced military capabilities, as well as hunting

and transport cap acity. Greater mobility in turn meant greater involvement

in trade networks. Eric Wolf, Europe and the People Without History, Berke-

ley: University of California Press, 1982, 1997, p. 177. For a discussion of

the equine revolution in Sotho society, for example, see Sandra Swart, ‘The

“Ox That Deceives”: The Meanings of the “Basotho Pony” in Southern Africa’,

Chapter 9, this volume.

53 See the Cape of Good Hope Government Gazette, 17 September 1830, no.

1288.

54 It does not spread directly between horses, but is transmitted by midges,

which become infected when feeding on infected horses. It occurs mostly in

the rainy season when midges are abundant, and fades after the frost, when

the midges die. Horses become infected between sunset to sunrise, when the

midges are active.

55 Origineel Plakkaat Boek, 1735, 1753, p. 82.

56 Child, The Saga of the South African Horse, 1967, p. 13.

57 Ibid., p. 22.


Notes 211

58 George McCall Theal, History and Ethnography of Africa South of the Zambesi,

vol. II, London: George Allen and Unwin, 1907, 1922, p. 323; Leibbrandt,

Letters Received, no. 417, p. 618.

59 These animals are believed to have been of the early English Roadster breed.

There is evidence to show that the name Roadster was synonymous with

Hack ney. M.H. Hayes, Points of the Horse, New York: Arco, 1969.

60 The tamed mounts transported by the Spanish to the Americas assumed a

feral state in the New World and developed into the ‘mustang’.

61 See, for example, Elizabeth Lawrence, ‘Rodeo Horses: the wild and the tame’.

In R. Willis, Signifying Animals – Human Meaning in the Natural World,

London: Routledge, 1990, p. 223 and more extensively Elizabeth Lawrence,

Rodeo: An Anthro polo gist Looks at the Wild and the Tame, Knoxville: Uni-

versity of Tennes see Press, 1981. See also Richard Slatta, Cowboys of the

Americas, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990.

62 The tripple is further discussed later in this chapter. The trot, in contrast,

is a two-beat jarring ride, with legs moving in diagonal pairs, which is very

useful for pulling vehicles and horses that trot were better at racing and

jumping than the gaited types. Gaited sorts had been prized prior to the

seventeenth century for general purpose riding because of their ability to

cover much ground in comfort. So it was wheeled travel on well-built roads

and the rising popularity of both jumping and racing that marginalised the

gaited horses in western Europe. See Karen Raber and Treva J. Tucker (eds),

The Culture of the Horse: Status, Discipline, and Identity in the Early Modern

World, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005.

63 The first hundred years saw no major new breed importations, resulting in

a foundation stock of hardy ponies.

64 John Barrow, Travels in the Interior of South Africa, in the Years 1797 and

1798, New York, N.Y.: Johnson Reprint, 1968, p. 36.

65 The horses of Spanish origin were taken from two French ships boarded

during the Napoleonic wars.

66 From 1769, the Cape Horse gained escalating renown as an army remount

and was exported to India for use by the British over the next century.

67 W. Bird, State of the Cape of Good Hope in 1822, reprinted Cape Town: Struik,

1966, p. 99.

68 F. J. van der Merwe, Ken Ons Perderasse, Cape Town: Human and Rousseau,

1981.

69 George Thompson, Travels and Adventures in Southern Africa, London: Henry

Colburn, 1827.

70 H. Lichtenstein, Travels in Southern Africa in the Years 1803, 1804, 1805

and 1806, Cape Town: The Van Riebeeck Society, 1928–1930. See also Anon,



Sketches of India, or, Observations Descriptive of the Scenery, etc. in Begal

… Together with Notes on the Cape of Good-Hope, and St. Helena, London:

Black, Parbury and Allen , 1816, p. 74.

71 R. Ross, Beyond the Pale, Essays on the History of Colonial South Africa,

Hanover: Wesleyan University Press, 1993, p. 1; L. Thompson, A History of

South Africa, p. 41.

72 M. H. Hayes, Among Horses in South Africa, London: Everett, 1900. Lichten-

stein still makes mention of the trot as a gait used by trekboers, or semi-

nomadic farmers, in the late eighteenth century.

73 This ‘peculiar pace’ was mentioned in 1806, but was labelled ‘the bungher’

(this could be a corruption of ‘burgher’), and contended that an English

jockey soon ‘[got] rid of it’. Anon. Gleanings in Africa, Exhibiting a Faithful

and Correct View of the Manners and Customs of the Inhabitants of the Cape

of Good Hope, and Surrounding Country, 1806, New York: Negro Universities

Press, 1969, p.23.

74 Lady Duff Gordon, Letters from the Cape, Cape Town: Maskew Miller, 1925,

p. 84.

75 See the first chapter of H. Rider Haggard, Jess [1887], London: Smith, Elder,

1909.

76 See Chapter IV, ‘Doctor Rodd’, in H. Rider Haggard, Finished [1917], London:

Mac donald, 1962. This later became something that was cherished as trad-

itional Boer riding style; see George Green, ‘How to train a horse to triple’,

Farmers Weekly, vol. 74, no. 55, 24 December 1947.

77 George McCall Theal, Records of the Cape Colony, London: Clowes, 1897–

1905, vol. XIV. p. 23.

78 See Letter to Huskisson, Records, vol. III, p. 390. See Barrow, Travels in the

Interior of South Africa, vol. I, p. 67.

79 Schreuder, ‘The Cape Horse’, 1915, p. 39. In England a horse’s pedigree had become

perceived as vital far earlier; in 1791 a General Stud Book was intro duced.

80 The Agricultural News and Farmer’s Journal, 7 February 1850.

81 The state attempted breed improvement through the importation of Hack-

neys from Britain in 1888 and 1891.

82 Anon, Sketches of India, 1816, p. 75.

83 Charles Thunberg, Travels in Europe, Africa and Asia, Performed in the Years

1770 and 1779, vol. II, London, 1793. Law notes a similar phenomenon in

West Africa, where mares had to feed themselves by grazing and mares were

unpopular for riding. The Horse in West African History, p. 45. The parallel

was extended to human society: while Boer women were not expected to

be equestrians, the South African war hero, General C. De Wet, famously

maintained that a ‘Boer without a horse is only half a man’.


Notes 213

84 Wyndham, History of the Thoroughbred, 1924, p. 2.

85 The initial judgment appears to have been that he was an interfering idiot

who had lost his life unnecessarily. In the first report to Holland his name

was not even mentioned, though considerable space was devoted to the 18

boxes of money that had been salvaged. When Woltemade’s body washed

ashore on the 2 June 1773, he was buried without ceremony in an unmarked

grave. Later, however, a VOC ship was named after him, his widow received

compensation, and in 1956 a statue was erected in his honour, after the idea

was mooted in the Van Riebeeck festival in 1952, and a commemorative

stamp was issued in 1973. See Sparrman, A Voyage to the Cape of Good

Hope, pp. 126–127.

86 Those like Dick Turpin’s ‘Black Bess’ appear to be later inventions teleo logic-

ally imposed on the early eighteenth century.

87 King sought to alert the British about the need for reinforcements in a cam-

paign against the Boers (Afrikaners) in Natal in 1842. Until recently the name

of his fellow rider Ndongeni Ka Xoki was seldom mentioned and the name of

his horse is unknown. An equestrian monument to Dick King on the Victoria

embankment in Durban was erected in 1915.

88 Like Boer General C. De Wet’s famous grey ‘Fleur’ in the South African War

(1899–1902).

89 Interestingly, recent research has shown that Napoleon’s famous horse, Ma-

rengo, may be a creation of the public imagination. Official and unofficial

represen tations of the fiery little Arab stallion, by name or presumption

Marengo, came from several different horses. Equally revealing of the social

significance of horsemanship as signifier of power was that Napoleon was a

mediocre rider, and his frequent involuntary descents were hidden from the

public. See Jill Hamilton, Marengo: The Myth of Napoleon’s Horse, London:

Fourth Estate, 2000.

90 Raber contends that the exotic ‘orientalised’ Other, to use Said’s categor-

isa tion, was nationalised: the Arabian, Turk and Barb modified into the

English Thorough bred. Moreover, the continental haute école was replaced

by specific ally British styles. As Raber notes ‘[w]hile the new horse culture

might still be socially restrict ive, as a metaphor and interpretive device

it became an inclusive definition of Englishness.’ Raber and Tucker (eds),

Culture of the Horse, 2005, p. 36.

91 Wyndham, History of the Thoroughbred, 1924, p. 16.

92 This blood stock formed the foundation of the Melck stud, which from c.

1808 to 1881 was an influential stud in southern Africa.

93 W. H.C. Lichtenstein, Foundation of the Cape, About the Becuanas: Being a

History of the Discovery and Colonisation of South Africa [1811, 1807], trans.

O. H. Spohr, Cape Town: Balkema, 1973.



94 Anon. Gleanings in Africa [1806], 1969, p. 23.

95 William Burchell, Travels in the Interior of Southern Africa, vol. II, London, Batch worth, 1822, reprinted 1953, p. 25.

96 Duff Gordon, Letters from the Cape, pp. 152–153. She also observed that the Malays maintained a grip on the horse-hiring industry, p. 46.

97 Anon. Gleanings in Africa [1806], 1969, p. 23. Burchell, Travels in the Interior of Southern Africa, vol. II, p. 163.

98 Lady Anne Barnard, The Cape Diaries of Lady Anne Barnard, 1799–1800, vol. I, M. Lenta and B. le Cordeur (eds), Cape Town: The Van Riebeeck Society, 1999. pp. 311, 333–334 and 359. Lady Anne Barnard, The Letters of Lady Anne Barnard to Henry Dundas, from the Cape and Elsewhere, 1793–1803, Together with her Journal of a Tour into the Interior, and Certain Other Letters , A. M. Lewin Robin-son (ed.), Cape Town: Balkema, 1973, September 1798. Interestingly, she also mentions oxen or bullock racing among Khoikhoi, pp. 116, 123.

99 Wyndham, History of Thoroughbred, 1924, p. 25.

100 The British returned the Cape Colony to the Netherlands in 1803.

101 Wyndham, History of the Thoroughbred, 1924, p.34.

102 Ibid., p. 39.

103 Cowper Rose, Four Years in Southern Africa, London: Colburn and Bentley, pp. 9–10.

104 Bird, State of the Cape of Good Hope in 1822. He mentions also the avail-ability of mules, chiefly from Buenos Aires, Brazil, at 200 rixdollars, and Spanish jacks selling at 500–1,000 rixdollars, p. 99.

105 Burchell, Travels in the Interior of Southern Africa, vol. I, 1824, p. 25.

106 Bird, State of the Cape of Good Hope in 1822, p. 163.

107 Wyndham, History of the Thoroughbred, 1924, p.22.

108 Gazette, August 1814.

109 Ibid.

110 A. E. Blount, Notes on the Cape of Good Hope Made During an Excursion in that Colony in the Year 1820, London: Murray, 1821.

111 The first advertisement for a stallion at stud appears to have been 25 Septem-ber 1805, in the Gazette.

112 KAB, GH, NO.1/46, 1825; KAB, GH, NO.1/58, 1826.

113 Wyndham, History of the Thoroughbred, 1924, pp. 88–89.

114 Signed C:B: Esqr delt; pubd by Dighton, Spring Gardens, Decr. 1811.

Chapter 9. The ‘Ox That Deceives’: The Meanings of the ‘Basotho Pony’ in Southern Africa

Sandra Swart

My thanks to my companion in the field, Graham Walker, and the participants at

the International Conference on forest and environmental history of the British


Notes 215

Empire and Commonwealth, University of Sussex, March 2003. Also to William

Beinart, Robert Edgar, Richard Grove, Albert Grundlingh, Natasha Distiller,

Frans van der Merwe and Lance van Sittert. Elements of this chapter appeared as

‘ “Race” horses – a discussion of horses and social dynamics in post-Apartheid

Southern Africa’ in N. Distiller and M. Steyn (eds), Under Construction: ‘Race’and

Identity in South Africa Today, Heinemann, 2004, pp. 13–24. I have used SeSotho

(instead of South African) orthography: SeSotho refers to language and customs;

MoSotho is a person; BaSotho refers to people, Lesotho refers to the country and

LeSotho refers to the nation. I have used the term ‘Basotho pony’, but it is often

commonly referred to as ‘Basuto pony’.

1 More than 80 per cent of the country is 1,800 metres above sea level. Basuto-

land was renamed the Kingdom of Lesotho upon independence from the UK

in 1966. King Moshoeshoe II was in exile but was reinstated in 1995, and

constitutional government was restored in 1993 after 23 years of military

rule.

2 ANC Daily News Briefing, Thursday 13 July 1995 @ MANDELA-HORSE MASERU,

www.anc.org.za/anc/newsbrief/1995/news0713. The Le sotho mon arch, who

owns a number of race horses, presented Mandela with the gift from the

royal stable. The gift was made at the royal palace in Maseru after Mandela,

Lesotho Prime Minister Ntsu Mokhehle and the king met. Accept ing the gift,

Mandela said: ‘This reminds me of my younger days when I was a shep-

herd.’

3 P. Savory, Basuto Fireside Tales. Cape Town: Howard Timmins, 1962. Horses

are understandably absent from the older myths and legends, see E. Jacottet ,

The Treasury of Ba-Suto Lore. Morija: Sesuto Book Depot, 1908; and M.

Postma, Tales from the BaSotho, Trans. S. McDermid. Austin: University of

Texas Press, 1974.

4 There is no historical or contemporary role for the horse among women; it

was and remains strictly a male preserve. In K. Limakatso Kendall’s Basali!

Stories by and about women in Lesotho, Pietermaritzburg: University of

Natal Press, 1995, other animals, but not horses, are mentioned. Gendered

horse ownership in Lesotho offers a useful counter narrative to the current

feminisation of equestrianism, currently the dominant discourse in the west,

particularly Anglophone countries.

5 Grain and hides, for example, were traded for iron from the Transvaal area.

6 About 30 kilometres (20 miles) from what is now the capital, Maseru.

7 G. Tylden, The Rise of the Basuto, Cape Town: Juta, 1950, p. 9. See Sandra

Swart, Chapter 8, this volume.

8 Ibid.



9 E. Eldridge, A South African Kingdom – The Pursuit of Security in Nineteenth

Century Lesotho, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993, p. 26; D. F.

Ellenberger, History of the Basuto, New York: Negro University Press, 1969,

p. 195; Peter Sanders, Moshoeshoe: Chief of the Sotho, London: Heinemann,

1975, p. 46. See also Russel William Thornton, The Origin and History of the

Basotho Pony, Morija, Morija Printing Works, 1936. There is some dispute

over when and how King Moshoeshoe himself acquired his first horse. Ellen -

berger suggests it was sent to him by a neighbouring leader; there is anec dotal

suggestion that the first horses were brought to the area by the Prussian

botanist Zydensteicker (Seidenstecher) in 1829 or 1830. Ellenberger, History

of the Basuto, p. 195; Sanders, Moshoeshoe, p. 46.

10 See Kolbe, ‘The present state of the Cape of Good Hope, 1713’, trans. G.

Medley, London: W. Innys and R. Manly, p. 33; Cape Quarterly Review, Janu-

ary 1882, p. 273, ‘khomohaka’, the deceiver ox (without horns).

11 Ellenberger, History of the Basuto, p. 195.

12 William Lye (ed.), Andrew Smith’s Journal of his Expedition into the Interior

of South Africa, 1834–36, Cape Town: A. A. Balkema, 1975, October 1834, p.

65.

13 Tylden, The Rise of the Basuto, p. 9.

14 Lye (ed.), Andrew Smith’s Journal of his Expedition into the Interior of South

Africa, 1834–36, October 1834, p. 64.

15 Numbers drawn from Eldridge, A South African Kingdom, 1993, p. 147.

16 Minnie Martin, Basutoland – Its Legends and Customs, London: Nichols, 1903,

p. 40.


18 Eldridge, A South African Kingdom, p. 160.

19 B.C. Judd, ‘With the C. M. R’, Nongquai, June 1938.

20 As in the Philippines, see Greg Bankoff, Chapter 6, this volume.

21 J. M. Christy, Transvaal Agricultural Journal, 1908; P. J. Schreuder, ‘The Cape

Horse’, PhD thesis, Ithaca: Cornell University, 1915, p. 101.


23 National Archives, Public Record Office, London, DO119/1096.

24 National Archives, Public Record Office, London, DO119/1096.

25 Memorandum of Understanding Concerning the Basotho Pony Project, 1 July

1977, Maseru. Lesotho Treaty List, no.5 of 1980, p. 22; on 8 May 1973, during

a donor conference, Ireland agreed to establish the Basotho Pony Project to

respond to the demand from countries where the Basotho Pony’s potential

was known. In 1978, the National Stud was established under an agreement

reached between the Governments of Lesotho and Ireland in 1976.

26 McCormack, 1991, p. 201.

27 H. Sessions, Two Years With Remount Commission, London: Chapman and

Hall, 1903, p. 215.


Notes 217

28 J. L. Lush, The Genetics of Populations, Mimeo: University of Iowa Press,

1948; see ‘From Jay L. Lush to Genomics: Visions for Animal Breeding and

Genetics’, Conference Proceedings, May 16–18, 1999, Department of Animal

Science, Iowa State University.

29 There are about 150 internationally accepted ‘breeds’ of horses in the world,

all belonging to the species, Equus caballus.

30 Although anthropologists no longer classify populations in terms of races,

they do recognise that human populations exhibit diverse phenotypes.

Ances tral phenotypes are suites of traits that are associated with geographic

populations.

31 ‘Conservation of Early Domesticated Animals of Southern Africa’, Confer-

ence proceedings, Willem Prinsloo Agricultural Museum, 3–4 March 1994.

32 F. van der Merwe and J. Martin, unpublished paper [n.d]. My thanks for a

copy of this paper.

33 www.orusovo.com/weissenfels/nooitgedacht.htm.

34 www.nooitgedacht.com/nootie_heritage.htm.

35 Nooitgedacht Horse Breeders’ Society, www.sa-breeders.co.za/org/nooitgedachter /

36 Ania Loomba, Colonialism/Postcolonialism, London and New York: Routledge,

1998.

37 Robert Young, Colonial Desire: Hybridity in Theory, Culture and Race, Lon-

don: Routledge, 1995, p. 10.

38 Loomba, Colonialism/Postcolonialism, p. 173.

39 Animals are used as signifiers in an attempt to boost post-colonial pride in

indigenous identity. This is not limited to the equine sphere. The sing ing dogs

of New Guinea, Korean Jindo or Australian dingo (Canis familiaris dingo), for

example, are increasingly argued to be ‘breeds’ in their own right. The dingo,

for example, is currently celebrated as ‘part of the living heritage of aboriginal

culture and part of Australian history’. The Jindo of Korea has been described

recently as ‘one of the Korean natural monuments’, around ‘from time

unknown’. C.G. Lee et al, ‘A Review of the Jindo, Korean Native Dog’, Asian-

Australasian Journal of Animal Sciences, vol. 13, no. 3, 2000, pp. 381–389.

40 Simon Dalby ‘Ecological Politics, Violence, and the Theme of Empire’, Global

Environmental Politics, vol. 4, no. 2, May 2004, pp. 1–11.

Chapter 10. ‘Together yet Apart’: Towards a Horse-story


1 Lynn White, Medieval Technology and Social Change, Oxford: Oxford Uni-

versity Press, 1962. White argues that the invention of the horse-stirrup gave

rise to a warrior class around which the structure of feudal society arose.

2 Partha Chatterjee, The Nation and Its Fragments: Colonial and Postcolonial

Histories, Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1993, p. 224.



3 On an innovative approach towards animal history, see, in particular, Jason

Hribal ‘“Animals are Part of the Working Class”: A Challenge to Labor His-

tory’, Labor History, vol. 44, no. 4, 2003, pp. 435–453.

4 Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac with Essays on Conservation from

Round River, New York: Ballantine Books, 1970, pp. 239–246. Leopold refers

to a land ethic where the notion that all individuals must be members of a

community of interdependent parts is simply enlarged to include the soils,

waters, plants as well as the animals.


219

Adriani, Nicolaus (1928) Bare’e–Nederlandsch Woordenboek [Bare’e–Dutch

dic tionary], Leiden: Brill [Bataviaasch Genootschap van Kunsten en weten-

schappen].

Aguilar, Filomeno (1998) Clash of Spirits: The History of Power and Sugar Planter

Hegemony on a Visayan Island, Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press.

Aguilar, José. (1893) Colonización de Filipinas [The Colonisation of the Philip-

pines], Madrid: Establecimiento Tipográfico de Alfredo Alonso.

Ajoebar (1927) ‘De Verbetering van den Paardenstapel op West–Soembawa’ [The

Improvement of the Horse-Population in Western–Sumbawa], Koloniale

Studiën, vol. 11 (part II) (pp. 366–373).

ANC Daily News Briefing, Thursday 13 July 1995 @ MANDELA–HORSE MASERU,

www.anc.org.za/anc/newsbrief/1995/news0713.

Anderson, John (1971) Acheen, and the Ports on the North and East Coasts of

Sumatra, Oxford University Press.

Anderson, Kay (1997) ‘A Walk on the Wild Side: A Critical Geography of Domesti-

cation’, Progress in Human Geography, vol. 21 (pp. 463–485).

Anderson, Virginia DeJohn (2004) Creatures of Empire: How Domestic Animals

Transformed Early America, New York: Oxford University Press.

Anderson, Warwick (1992) ‘Climates of Opinion: Acclimatization in Nine teenth–

Century France and England’, Victorian Studies, vol. 35, no. 2 (pp. 135–157).

—— (1995) ‘“Where Every Prospect Pleases and Only Man is Vile”: Laboratory

Medicine as Colonial Discourse’. In Vicente Rafael (ed.), Discrepant Histories:

Translocal Essays on Filipino Cultures, Manila: Anvil Publishing (pp. 83–

112).

—— (1996) ‘Immunities of Empire: Race, Disease, and the New Tropical Medicine, 1900–

1920’, Bulletin of the History of Medicine, vol. 70 (pp. 94–118).

‘Animal Industry in the Philippines; Horses’ (1911) Philippine Agricultural

Review , vol. 4, no. 9 (pp. 476–483).

Anon (1816) Sketches of India, or, Observations Descriptive of the Scenery, etc.

in Begal … Together with Notes on the Cape of Good–Hope, and St. Helena,

London: Black, Parbury and Allen.

Anon (1969) Gleanings in Africa, Exhibiting a Faithful and Correct View of the

Manners and Customs of the Inhabitants of the Cape of Good Hope, and

Surrounding Country, 1806, New York: Negro Universities Press.

Bibliography



Arkin, Marcus (1973) Storm in a Teacup, the Later Years of John Company at the

Cape, 1815–36, Cape Town: Struik.

Arnold, David (1996) ‘Tropical Medicine before Manson’. In David Arnold (ed.)

Warm Climates and Western Medicine: The Emergence of Tropical Medicine,

1500–1930, Amsterdam and Atlanta, Georgia: Rodopi (pp. 1–19).

—— (1998) ‘India’s Place in the Tropical World, 1170–1930’, Journal of Imperial

and Commonwealth History, vol. 26, no. 1 (pp. 1–21).

Avellano, Manuel (1912) Geografía de las Islas Filipinas, Manila: Tipografía del

Colegio de Sto. Tomás.

Baines, Thomas (1961) Journal of Residence in Africa, vol. II, Cape Town: The Van

Riebeeck Society.

Baker, Steve (1993) Picturing the Beast: Animals, Identity and Representation,

Manchester: Manchester University Press.

Balfour, Edward (1871) Cyclopaedia of India and of Eastern and Southern Asia,

Commercial, Industrial and Scientific, Madras.

Ball, Caroline (1994) Horse and Pony Breeds, Edison: Chartwell.

Ballot, J. (1897) ‘Historisch Overzicht van de Maatregelen tot Verbetering van den

Vaarden– en Veerstapel in Nederlandsch–Indië’ [Historical Review of Meas-

ures to Improve the Horse and Cattle Population in the Netherlands–Indies],

Veeartsenijkundige Bladen voor Nederlandsch–Indië, vol. 10 (pp. 21–87).

Bankoff, Greg (1991) ‘Redefining Criminality: Gambling and Financial Ex pedi ency

in the Colonial Philippines 1764–1898’, Journal of Southeast Asian Studies,

vol. 22 (pp. 267–281).

—— (2001) ‘A Question of Breeding: Zootechny and Colonial Attitudes Towards

the Tropical Environment in Late Nineteenth Century Philippines’, Journal

of Asian Studies, vol. 60, no. 2 (pp. 413–437).

—— (2003) Cultures of Disaster: Society and Natural Hazard in the Philippines,

Richmond: Routledge Curzon.

—— (2004a) ‘Bestia Incognita: The Horse and Its History in the Philip pines 1880–

1930’, Anthrozoös, vol. 17, no. 1 (pp. 3–25).

—— (2004b) ‘Horsing Around: The Life and Times of the Horse in the Philippines

at the Turn of the 20th Century’. In Peter Boomgaard and David Henley

(eds), Smallholders and Stockbreeders: Histories of Foodcrop and Livestock

Farming in Southeast Asia, Leiden: KITLV Press, (pp. 233–255).

Barclay, Harold B. (1980) The Role of the Horse in Man’s Culture, London: J. A.

Allen & Co.

Barendse, R. J. (2001) ‘Reflections on the Arabian Seas in the Eighteenth Century’,

Itinerario, vol. 25, no. 1 (pp. 25–49).

Barnard, Lady Anne (1973) The Letters of Lady Anne Barnard to Henry Dundas,

from the Cape and Elsewhere, 1793–1803, Together with her Journal of a

Tour into the Interior, and Certain Other Letters, A. M. Lewin Robinson (ed.),

Cape Town: Balkema.


Bibliography 221

—— (1999) The Cape Diaries of Lady Anne Barnard, 1799–1800, vol. I, M. Lenta

and B. le Cordeur (eds), Cape Town: The Van Riebeeck Society.

Barrow, John (1968) Travels in the Interior of South Africa, in the Years 1797 and

1798, New York: N.Y. Johnson, Reprint 1968.

Bayly, C. A. (1990) Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire, Cam-

bridge: Cambridge University Press.

Bennett, Charles (1960) ‘Cultural Animal Geography: An Inviting Field of Re-

search’, Professional Geographer, vol. 12, no. 5 (pp. 12–14).

Berg, L.W.C. van den (1886) Le Hadhramout et les Colonies Arabes dans l’Archipel

Indien, Batavia: Imprimerie du Gouvernement.

Berger, J. (1971) ‘Animal World’, New Society (p. 1043).

Berger, John (1980) ‘Why look at animals?’ In John Berger, About Looking, New

York: Pantheon Books.

Best, W. (1914) ‘Suggestions for the Care of Horses in the Philippine Islands’,

Philippine Agricultural Review, vol. 7 (pp. 327–331).

Bird, W. (1966) State of the Cape of Good Hope in 1822, reprinted Cape Town:

Struik.

Birkhead, Tim (2003) A Brand-New Bird: How Two Amateur Scientists Created the

First Genetically Engineered Animal, New York: Basic Books.

Blake, George (1956) B. I. Centenary, 1856–1956, London: Collins.

Blas Jerez to Director–General de Administración Civil (1889) Philippine National

Archives, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7.

Blok, Gisela (1991) ‘Challenging Dichotomies: Perspectives on Women’s History’.

In Karen Offen, Ruth Roach Pierson and Jane Rendall (eds), Writing Women’s

History, International Perspectives, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan (pp.

1–23).

Blount, A .E. (1821) Notes on the Cape of Good Hope Made During an Excursion

in that Colony in the Year 1820, London: Murray.

Boer, Michael Georg de and Johannes Cornelis Westermann (1941) Een Halve

Eeuw Paketvaart, 1891–1941 [Half a Century of Packet–Shipping], Amster-

dam: DeBussy.

Bogdan, Robert and Steven J. Taylor (1975) Introduction to Qualitative Research

Methods, New York: John Wiley & Sons.

Bongianni, Maurizio (ed.) (1988) Simon & Schuster’s Guide to Horses and Ponies,

New York: Simon and Schuster.

Boomgaard, Peter (1999) ‘Maize and Tobacco in Upland Indonesia’. In Tania

Murray Li (ed.), Transforming the Indonesian Uplands: Marginality, Power

and Production, Amsterdam: Harwood Academic Publishers.

—— (2001) Frontiers of Fear: Tigers and People in the Malay World 1600–1950,

New Haven: Yale University Press.

—— (2004) ‘Horses, Horse Trading and Royal Courts in Indonesian History,

1500–1900’. In Peter Boomgaard and David Henley (eds), Small holders and



Stockbreeders: History of Foodcrop and Livestock Farming in Southeast Asia,

Leiden: KITLV Press. [Verhandelingen 218] (pp. 211–232).

Boomgaard, Peter and David Henley (eds) (2004) Smallholders and Stock breeders:

Histories of Foodcrop and Livestock Farming in Southeast Asia, Leiden:

KITLV Press.

Bouman, M.A. (1925) ‘Toeharlanti: De Bimaneesche Sultansverheffing’ [Tuhar-

lanti : The Bimanese Installation of a Sultan], Koloniaal Tijdschrift 14 (pp.

710–717).

Braam Morris, D.F. van (1891) ‘Nota van Toelichting bij het Contract Gesloten

met het Landschap Bima 1886’ [Explanatory Memorandum to the Contract

Concluded with the Region of Bima 1886], Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal–,

Land– en Volkenkunde (TBG) 34 (pp. 176–233).

Brenner, J. Freiherr von (1894) Besucht bei den Kannibalen Sumatras: Erste Durch-

querung der Unabhängigen Batak–Lande [Visit to the Cannibals of Sumatra:

First Cut Right Across the Independent Batak Area], Würzburg: Woerl.

British Burma Gazette (1880) Rangoon: Government Press.

British South Africa Company (1900) Reports on the Administration of Rhodesia,

1898–1900, London.

Broderip, W.J. (1847) Zoological Recreations, London: H. Colburn, 1847; Special

Collections L.14.29, University of Edinburgh.

Broeze, Frank J. A. (1979) ‘The Merchant Fleet of Java, 1820–1850: A Preliminary

Survey’, Archipel, vol. 18 (pp. 251–69).

Brummelhuis, Han ten (1987) Merchant, Courtier and Diplomat: A History of the

Contacts between the Netherlands and Thailand, Lochem–Gent: De Tijd-

stroom.

Buffon, Georges (1794–1804) Histoire Naturelle Générale Et Particulière. 44 vols,

Paris.

Bulliet, Richard (1975) The Camel and the Wheel, Cambridge: Harvard University

Press.

Burchell, William (1822, 1953) Travels in the Interior of Southern Africa, vol. II,

London: Batchworth.

Burman, Jose (1993) To Horse and Away, Cape Town: Human and Rousseau.

Burrill, Harry R. and Raymond F. Crist (1980) Report on Trade Conditions in

China, New York: Garland Publishing.

Burt, Jonathan (2002) Animals in Film, London: Reaktion Books.

Burton, Antoinette (1994) Burdens of History: British Feminists, Indian Women, and

Imperial Culture, 1865–1915, Chapel Hill and London: University of North

Carolina Press.

Busch, Briton (1985) War Against the Seals: A History of the North–American Seal

Fishery, Kingston and Montreal: McGill–Queen’s University Press.

Cabaton, A. (1911) Java, Sumatra and the Other Islands of the Dutch East Indies,

London: T. Fisher Unwin.


Bibliography 223

Callwell, C. E. (1990) Small Wars, a Tactical Textbook for Imperial Soldiers, Novato:

Presidio Press.

Campo, J. À (1992) Koninklijke Paketvaart Maatschappij: Stoomvaart en Staats-

vorming in de Indonesische Archipel, 1888–1914 [Royal Shipping Company,

Steamshipping and State Formation in the Indonesian Archipelago], Hilver-

sum: Verloren.

Cape of Good Hope Almanac and Annual Register (1845), Cape Town: A. S. Robert-

son.

Carlile, Nancy (1993) ‘The Chewed Chair Leg and the Empty Collar: Mementos of

Pet Ownership in New England’, Dublin Seminar for New England Folklife

Annual Proceedings, vol. 18 (pp. 130–146).

‘Carruajes “La Union” ’ [Carriages “La Union”] (1889) Philippine National Arch-

ives, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7.

Cartmill, Matt (1993) A View to a Death in the Morning: Hunting and Nature

through History, Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Casey, H. L. (1906) Director of Studs to the Chief of the Bureau of Agriculture,

Baguio, 31 August 1905. In Report of the Philippine Commission, 1905,

Washing ton: Government Printing Office.

Cassidy, Rebecca (2002) The Sport of Kings: Kinship, Class and Thoroughbred

Breeding in Newmarket, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Catalan, Nemesio (1935) ‘The Animal Problem of the Future Philippine Army’,

Philippine Journal of Animal Industry, vol. 2, no. 1 (pp. 67–77).

Census of the Philippine Islands, 1903 (1905) Washington: Bureau of the Census.

——, 1918 (1920–1921) Manila: Bureau of Printing.

Chambert–Loir, Henri (1994) ‘State, City, Commerce: The Case of Bima’, Indonesia

57 (pp. 71–88).

Charney, Michael (2004) Southeast Asian Warfare, 1300–1900, Leiden: Brill.

Chevenix–Trench, Charles (1980) A History of Horsemanship, London: Double-

day.

Child, Daphne (1967) Saga of the South African Horse, Cape Town: Howard Tim-

mins.

Chirino, Pedro (1973) ‘Relación de las Islas Filipinas, 1604’. In Blair and Robert-

son, The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 12 (pp. 169–322).

Chivers, Keith (1983) ‘The Supply of Horses in Great Britain in the Nine teenth Cen-

tury’. In F. Thompson (ed.), Horses in European Economic History: A Pre limin-

ary Canter, Reading: The British Agricultural History Soci ety (pp. 31–49).

Choisy, François–Timoléon, (1993) Journal of a Voyage to Siam 1685–1686,

Oxford University Press.

Christie, Jan Wisseman (2004) ‘The Agricultural Economies of Early Java and

Bali’. In Boomgaard and Henley (eds), Smallholders and Stockbreeders: His-

tories of Foodcrop and Livestock Farming in Southeast Asia, Leiden: KITLV

Press (pp. 47–68).



Clarence–Smith, William Gervase (1979) Slaves, Peasants and Capitalists in South-

ern Angola, 1840–1926, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

—— (2002) ‘Horse Trading: The Economic Role of Arabs in the Lesser Sunda

Islands, c. 1800 to c. 1940’. In Huub de Jonge and Nico Kaptein (eds), Tran-

scending Borders: Arabs, Politics, Trade and Islam in Southeast Asia, Leiden:

KITLV Press (pp. 143–162).

—— (2004a) ‘Horse Breeding in Mainland Southeast Asia and Its Borderlands’. In

Peter Boomgaard and David Henley (eds), Small holders and Stockbreeders:

Histories of Foodcrop and Livestock Farm ing in Southeast Asia, Leiden:

KITLV Press (pp. 189–210).

—— (2004b) ‘Elephants, Horses, and the Coming of Islam to Northern Sumatra’,

Indonesia and the Malay World, 2004, vol. 32 (pp. 271–284).

—— (2004c) ‘Cape to Siberia: The Indian Ocean and China Sea Trade in Equids’. In

David Killingray, Margaret Lincoln and Nigel Rigby (eds), Maritime Empires:

British Imperial Maritime Trade in the Nineteenth Century, Woodbridge:

Boydell and Brewer (pp. 48–67).

Clotet, José Maria (1973) Fr José Maria Clotet to Rev. Fr Rector of Ateneo Muni-

cipal, Talisayan, 11 May, 1889. In Blair and Robertson, The Philippine Islands,

1493–1898, vol. 43 (pp. 288–306).

Clutton–Brock, Juliet (1992) Horse Power, Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Coates, Austin (1994) China Races, Hong Kong: Oxford University Press.

Commander of the GCV to the Director–General of Civil Administration, 4

Septem ber (1888) Philippine National Archives, Veterinarios.

Conservation of Early Domesticated Animals of Southern Africa’ (1994) Confer-

ence proceedings, Willem Prinsloo Agricultural Museum, 3–4 March.

Coolhaas, W. Ph. (ed.) (1964, 1968, 1971, 1975, 1976, 1979, 1985) Generale Mis-

siven van Gouverneurs–Generaal en Raden aan Heren XVII der Verenigde

Oostindische Compagnie [General Letters from the Governors–General and

Council to the Gentlemen Seventeen of the United East India Company],

Vols. II, III, IV,V, VI, VII, VIII, The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.

Corchera, Sebastian Hurtado de (1973) Letter to Felipe IV, 30 June, 1636. In

Blair and Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 26 (pp.

60–264).

Cortesão, Armando (ed.) (1944) The Summa Oriental of Tomé Pires: An Account

of the East, from the Red Sea to Japan, Written in Malacca and India in

1512–1515, London: Hakluyt Society.

—— (ed.) (1990) The Suma Oriental of Tomé Pires, New Delhi & Madras: Asian

Educational Services.

Couperus, G.W. (1886) ‘Les Races Chevalines des Iles de la Sonde’ [Breeds of

Horses of the Sunda Islands], Revue Coloniale Internationale 2 (pp. 29–

38).

Courtellemont, Gervais (1904) Voyage au Yunnan [Voyage to Yunnan], Paris:

Plon–Nourrit.


Bibliography 225

Cowper Rose (1829) Four Years in Southern Africa, London: Colburn and Bent-

ley.

Crawfurd, John (1856) A Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Islands & Adjacent

Countries, London: Bradbury & Evans.

—— (1971) A Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Islands & Adjacent Countries,

Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press.

Cribb, Robert (1993) ‘Development Policy in the Early 20th Century’. In Dirkse, J.P.,

Frans Hüsken and Mario Rutten, Development and Social Welfare. Indon esia´s

Experiences under the New Order, Leiden: KITLV Press [Ver handel ingen 156],

pp. 224–245.

Crisp, Olga (1983) ‘Horses and Management of a Large Agricultural Estate in

Russia at the End of the Nineteenth Century’. In Francis Thompson (ed.),

Horses in European Economic History: A Preliminary Canter, Reading: The

British Agricultural History Society (pp. 156–176).

Crist, Eileen (1999) Images of Animals: Anthropomorphism and Animal Mind,

Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Cronon, William (1992) ‘A Place for Stories: Nature, History, and Narrative’,

Journal of American History, vol. 78, no. 2 (pp. 1347–1376).

Croo, Maurice Henri du (1917) ‘De Verbetering van den Paardenstapel op het

Eiland Soembawa’ [The Improvement of the Horse Population on the Island

of Sumbawa], Koloniale Studiën, vol. 1 (part II) (pp. 479–491).

Crosby, Alfred (1972) The Columbian Exchange: Biological Consequences of 1492,

Westport: Greenwoods.

Crosby, Alfred W. (1986) Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of

Europe, 900 to 1900, Cambridge, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Cuneo, Pia (2000) ‘Beauty and the Beast: Art and Science in Early Modern Euro-

pean Equine Imagery’, Journal of Early Modern History, vol. 4, nos. 3–4 (pp.

269–321).

Curtin, Philip (1989) Death by Migration: Europe’s Encounters with the Tropical

World in the Nineteenth Century, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Daghregister Gehouden int Casteel Batavia vant Passerende daer ter Plaetse als

over Geheel Nederlandts–India [Daily Register Kept in Castle Batavia of

Occurences There and in the Entire Netherlands Indies] (1887–1931), 31 vols

(covering selected years between 1624 and 1682), Batavia/’s–Gravenhage:

Landsdrukkerij/Nijhof.

Dalby, Simon (2004) ‘Ecological Politics, Violence, and the Theme of Empire’,

Global Environmental Politics, vol. 4, no. 2, May (pp. 1–11).

Dam, Pieter van (1927–1954) Beschrijvinge van de Oostindische Compagnie

[Descriptions of the East Indian Company], Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff:

Rijks Geschiedkundige Publicatiën, edited by F.W. Stapel (first 6 vols) and

C. W. Th. van Boetzelaer.

Dames, Mansel Longworth (ed.) (1918) The book of Duarte Barbosa: An Account

of the Countries Bordering on the Indian Ocean and their Inhabitants,



Writ ten by Duarte Barbosa and Completed about the Year 1518 A.D., Lon-

don: Hakluyt Society.

Dampier, William (1931) Voyages and Discoveries [1699], edited by C. Wilkinson,

London: The Argonaut Press.

—— (1939) A Voyage to New Holland, edited by J. A. Williamson, London: Argo-

naut Press.

—— (1973) ‘A New Voyage Round the World, 1703’. In Blair and Robertson, The

Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 38 (pp. 241–285) and vol. 39 (pp. 21–

121).

Darwin, Charles (1872) The Expression of the Emotions of Man and Animals,

London: Murray.

Dasmariñas, Gómez Pérez (1973) to the King of Camboja, 27 September, 1593.

In Blair and Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 9 (pp.

76–78).

Davenport Adams, W.H. (1880) The Eastern archipelago, London: T. Nelson and

Sons.

Dawkins, Marian (1993) Through Our Eyes Only? The Search for Animal Con-

sciousness, Oxford: W. H. Freeman Spektrum.

De Residentie Kadoe naar de Uitkomsten der Statistieke Opname [The Residency

of Kadoe Based on the Results of the Statistical Survey] (1871), Batavia:

Landsdrukkerij.

Delort, Robert (1984) Les Animaux ont une Histoire, Paris: Éditions du Seuil.

Derry, Margaret (2003) Bred for Perfection: Shorthorn Cattle, Collies, and Arabian

Horses since 1800, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Desquibel, Pedro (1973) ‘Reception of the Royal Seal at Manila 8 June, 1598’. In

Blair and Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 10 (pp.

133–139).

Dhiravat na Pomberja (2001) Siamese Court Life in the Seventeenth Century as

Depicted in European Sources, Bangkok: Chulalongkorn University.

Diamond, Jared (1997) Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies,

New York: W.W. Norton.

Diaz, Carlos (1936) ‘Breeding Performance of Arabian Stallions of the Bureau

of Animal Industry’, Philippine Journal of Animal Industry, vol. 3, no. 4 (pp.

263–272).

Dijk, G. C. A. (1904) ‘De Sandelhout en de Paardenfokkerij in Nederlandsch

Indië’, De Indische Gids, vol. 26, no. 1, ii (pp. 367–94).

Dobbin, Christine (1983) Islamic Revivalism in a Changing Peasant Economy:

Central Sumatra, 1784–1847, London, Malmö: Curzon Press.

Doniger, Wendy (1999) ‘Presidential Address: “I Have Scinde”: Flogging a Dead

(White Male Orientalist) Horse’, Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 58, no. 4 (pp.

940–960).

Dove, Michael (1984) ‘Man, Land, and Game in Sumbawa, Eastern Indonesia’,

Singapore Journal of Tropical Agriculture, vol. 5, no. 2 (pp. 112–124).


Bibliography 227

Drewer, M. S. (1969) ‘The Domestication of the Horse’. In Peter Ucko and George

Dimbleby (eds), The Domestication and Exploitation of Plants and Animals,

London: Duckworth (pp. 471–478).

Du Plessis, S. F. (1934) Die Verhaal van die Dagverhaal van Jan van Riebeeck

[The Narrative of the Diary of Jan van Riebeeck], D. Litt. thesis: University

of Pretoria.

Ducray, Charles G. et al. (1938) Ile Maurice, Port Louis: General Printing and

Stationery Co. Ltd.

Dumarçay, Jacques (1991) The Palaces of South–East Asia, Singapore: Oxford

University Press.

Dunlap, Thomas (1999) Nature and the English Diaspora – Environment and

History in the United States, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press.

‘Early Franciscan Missions [1649]’ (1973). In Blair and Robertson (eds), The

Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 35 (pp. 278–322).

Edwards, C. (1916) ‘The Live–stock Industry of the Philippines’, Philippine Agri-

cultural Review, vol. 9, no. 2 (pp. 136–149).

Edwards, Peter (1988) The Horse Trade of Tudor and Stuart England, Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press.

El Comandante Jefe to Corregidor de Manila (1884), Philippine National Archives,

Animales Sueltos, Corregimiento de Manila.

Elder, G. J. Wolch, and J. Emel. (1998) ‘Race, Place, and the Bounds of Humanity’,

Society & Animals, vol. 6, no. 2 (pp. 183–202).

Eldridge, E. (1993) A South African Kingdom – The Pursuit of Security in Nineteenth

Century Lesotho, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Ellenberger, D. F. (1969) History of the Basuto, New York: Negro University Press.

Elliott, Charles B. (1968) The Philippines to the End of the Commission Government,

New York: Greenwood Press.

Elphick, Richard (1977) Kraal and Castle: Khoikhoi and the Founding of White

South Africa, New Haven: Yale University Press. (pp. 90–110).

Emel, Jody (1998) ‘Are You Man Enough, Big and Bad Enough? Wolf

Eradication in the US’. In Wolch and Emel, Animal Geographies (pp.

91–116).

Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch–Indië, (1917–1921) The Hague: W. P. van Stockum

& Son.

Epstein, H. (1971) The Origin of the Domestic Animals of Africa, New York:

Africana.

‘Espediente Original, Pampanga 1859’ [The First or Original Proceedings] (1851)

Philippine National Archives, Carreras de Caballos, Bundle 1.

Estadística Demografico–Sanitaria del Radio Municipal de L. M. I. Y. S. L.C. de

Manila de Enero a Diciembre de 1886, Defunciones [Demographic and

Health Statistics of the Municipal Authority of Manila from January to

December 1886, Deaths] (1888), El Comercio, 3 March.



‘Estado del Numero de Carruages, Carros y Caballos, Varias Provincias: Bohol,

Camarines Norte, Capiz, Cebu, Iloilo, Intramuros, La Union, Manila, Negros,

Tarlac, Zambales’ [The Number of Carriages, Carts and Horses, Various

Provinces] (1889) Philippine National Archives, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos,

Bundle 7.

‘Expediente sobre Cumplimiento de la Real Orden No 275 De 30 Marzo de

1885 para el Fomento y Meyora de la Raza Caballar en las Islas, 1 May’

[Proceedings on the Implementation of the Royal Order No.275 of 30 March

1885 to Promote and Improve the Breed of Horse in the Islands] (1888),

Philippine National Archives, Raza de Caballeria de Filipinas, Formento y

Mejora.

‘Expediente sobre Dejar Sin Efecto la Circular de Este Centro, de 27 de Julio

de 1886’ [Proceedings on Leaving in Effect the Circular of this Centre, of

27 July 1886] (1887) Philippine National Archives, Carruajes, Carros y

Caballos, Bundle 7.

‘Expediente sobre la Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de la Cria

Caballar de este Archipiélago’ [Proceedings on the Management of the Project

to Reinvigorate and Improve the Breed of Horse of this Archipelago] (1881)

Philippine National Archives, Raza de Caballeria, Formento y Mejora.

‘Expediente sobre Reclamación, Iloilo 1884’ [Proceedings about the Complaint,

Iloilo 1884] (1884) Philippine National Archives, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos,

Bundle 7.

Fattah, Hala M. (1997) The Politics of Regional Trade in Iraq, Arabia and the Gulf,

1745–1900, Albany (New York): State University of New York Press.

Felipe II (1973) Instructions from Felipe II to Governor Gómez Pérez Dasmariñas,

9 August, 1589. In Emma Blair and Alexander Robertson, The Philippine

Islands, 1493–1898, Mandaluyong: Cachos Hermanos, vol. 7 (pp. 141–172).

—— (1973) The Audiencia of Manila Re-established, 26 November 1595. In Blair

and Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 9 (pp. 189–

191).

Felipe Jovantes to Guardia Civil Veterana (1874), Philippine National Archives,

Veterinarios.

Ferrars, Max and Bertha (1900) Burma, London: Sampson Low, Marston & Co.

Fielding, Denis, and Krause, Patrick (1998) Donkeys, London: Macmillan Edu-

cation.

Firth, Raymond (1951) Elements of Social Organization, London: Watts.

Flannery, Tim (2001) The Eternal Frontier: An Ecological History of North America

and Its Peoples, London: William Heinemann.

‘Floods in the Philippines 1691–1911’, Archives of the Manila Observatory, Box

10, 37.

Foreman, John (1899, 1985) The Philippine Islands, Mandaluyong: Cacho Hermanos.

—— (1890) The Philippine Islands, London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle &

Riving ton.


Bibliography 229

—— (1906) The Philippine Islands, Shanghai: Kelly and Walsh.

‘Formación Previa en Averiguación’ [Review of the Case] (1874) Philippine Na-

tional Archives, Veterinarios.

Foronda, Marcelino (1986) Insigne y Siempre: Leal Essays on Spanish Manila,

Manila: De La Salle University, History Department and the Research Center.

Foster, William (ed.) (1943) The Voyage of Sir Henry Middleton to the Moluccas

1604–1606, London: Hakluyt Society (Works issued by the Hakluyt Society,

2nd series, 88).

Fox, James (1977) Harvest of the Palm: Ecological Changes in Eastern Indonesia,

Cambridge, London: Harvard University Press.

Francis, Emanuel (1856) Herinneringen uit de Levensloop van een Indisch Ambtenaar

van 1815 tot 1851 [Memories from the Course of the Life of an ‘Indisch’

Official from 1815 to 1851], Batavia: Van Dorp. 3 vols.

Frankel, P. H. (1984) Pretoria’s Praetorians, Civil–military Relations in South

Africa, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Franklin, Adrian (1999) Animals and Modern Cultures: A Sociology of Human–

Animal Relations in Modernity, London: Sage.

Freijss, J. P. (1859) ‘Schets van den handel van Sumbawa’ [Sketch of the Trade on

Sumbawa], Tijdschrift van Nederlandsch–Indië (TNI) II (pp. 268–283).

French, Richard (1975) Antivivisection and Medical Science in Victorian Society,

Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Fudge, Erica (2000) Perceiving Animals: Humans and Beasts in Early Modern

English Culture, Basingstoke: Macmillan Press.

Geoffroy Saint–Hilaire, Isidore (1861) Acclimatation et Domestication des Animaux

Utiles [Acclimatization and Domestication of Work Animals], Paris.

Generale Missiven van Gouverneurs–Generaal en Raden aan Heren XVII der Veren-

igde Oostindische Companie [General Missives of the Governors–General

and Council to the Gentlemen XVII of the United East Indian Company]

(1960–2004), edited by W. P. Coolhaas et al, ’s–Gravenhage: Nijhoff; Rijks

Geschiedkundige Publicatiën, 11 vols.

Gervaise, Nicolas (1989) The Natural and Political History of the Kingdom of

Siam, trans. John Villiers, Bangkok: White Lotus.

Ginsburg, Henry (1989) Thai Manuscript Painting, London: The British Library.

Glick, Thomas (1974) ‘Spain’. In Thomas Glick (ed.), The Comparative Reception

of Darwin, Austin and London: University of Texas Press (pp. 307–345).

Glukin, Neil Dana (1977) ‘Pet Birds and Cages of the 18th Century’, Early Ameri-

can Life, vol. 8 (pp. 38–59).

Goethals, Peter R. (1961) Aspects of Local Government in a Sumbawan Village

(Eastern Indonesia), Ithaca, New York: Cornell University. [Monograph

Series. Modern Indonesia Project, Southeast Asia Program, Department of

Far Eastern Studies].

Gommans, Jos (1994) ‘The Horse Trade in Eighteenth–century South Asia’, Journal

of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, vol. 37 (pp. 228–50).



González y Martín, R. (1986) Filipinas y Sus Habitantes, Béjar: Establecimiento

Tipográfico de la Viuda de Aguilar.

Goodall, Daphne Machin (1968) Paarderassen van de Wereld [Horses of the

World], Zwolle: La Rivière en Voorhoeve.

Goody, Jack (2000) The Power of Written Tradition, Washington: Smithsonian

Institute Press.

Goor, Jurriën van (ed.) (1988) Generale Missiven van Gouverneurs–Generaal en

Raden aan Heren XVII der Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie, Vol. IX, The

Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.

Gordon, Lady Duff (1925) Letters from the Cape, Cape Town: Maskew Miller.

Great Britain, Foreign Office, Historical Section (1919) Dutch Timor and the

Lesser Sunda Islands, London.

—— (1920) Portuguese Timor, London.

Green, George (1947) ‘How to Train a Horse to Triple’, Farmers Weekly, vol. 74,

no. 55, 24 December 1947.

Grimbeek, Christiaan (1985) ‘Die Totstandkoming van die Unieverdegingsmag

met Spesifieke Verwysing na die Verdedigingswette van 1912 and 1922’[The

Establishment of the Union Defence Force with Specific Reference to the

Defence Acts of 1912 and 1922] D.Phil thesis: University of Pretoria.

Groeneveld, W. (1916) ‘Het Paard in Nederlandsch–Indië; Hoe het is Ontstaan,

hoe het is en Hoe het kan Worden’ [The Horse in the Netherlands Indies;

How it Originated, How it is, and How it could Become], Veeartsenijkundige

Bladen voor Nederlandsch–Indië, vol. 28 (pp. 197–237).

Groeneveld, W. and J. C. Witjens (1924) Het paard [The Horse], Haarlem: Tjeenk

Willink. [Onze Koloniale Dierenteelt. Populaire handboekjes over Neder-

landsch–Indische nuttige dieren].

Groeneveldt, Willem Pieter (1880) ‘Notes on the Malay Archipelago and Malacca,

compiled from Chinese Sources’, Verhandelingen Bataviaasch Genootschap,

1880, vol. 39 (pp. 34–39).

Groves, Colin P. (1974) Horses, Asses and Zebras in the Wild, Sanibel: Ralph Curtis

Books.

Guillemard, F.H.H. (1889) The Cruise of Marchesa to Kamschatka & New Guinea

(with Notices of Formosa, Liu–Kiu, and Various Islands of the Malay Archi-

pelago), London: John Murray. [Second edition].

Haan, Frederik de (1910–12) Priangan: De Preanger–Regentsschappen onder het

Nederlandsche Bestuur tot 1811 [Priangan: The Preanger Regencies under

Dutch Administration up to 1811], Batavia: Kolff, 4 vols.

Haggard, H. Rider Jess (1887, 1909), London: Smith, Elder.

—— Finished (1917, 1962), London: Macdonald.

Hamilton, Jill (2000) Marengo: The Myth of Napoleon’s Horse, London: Fourth

Estate.

Haraway, Donna (1989) Primate Visions: Gender, Race, and Nature in the World

of Modern Science, New York and London: Routledge.


Bibliography 231

Harris, Marvin (1965) ‘The Myth of the Sacred Cow’. In Anthony Leeds and

Andrew P. Vayda (eds) Man, Culture and Animals, Washington: American

Association for the Advancement of Science (pp. 217–228).

Harrison, Mark (1996) ‘“The Tender Frame of Man”: Disease, Climate, and Racial

Difference in India and the West Indies, 1760–1860’, Bulletin of the History

of Medicine, vol. 70 (pp. 68–93).

Harvey, Godfrey E. (1967) History of Burma, London: Frank Cass.

Hasselt, Arend Ludolf van (1882) Volksbeschrijving van Midden–Sumatra [De scrip-

tion of the People of Central Sumatra] (vol. 3 of P. J. Veth (ed.) Midden–Sumatra.

Reizen en Onderzoeking der Sumatra–Expeditie 1877–1879 [Central Sumatra.

Travels and Research of the Sumatra Expedition 1877–1879], Leiden: Brill.

Hayes, M. H. (1900) Among Horses in South Africa, London: Everett.

Henderikus, J. Stam and Tanya Kalmanovitch (1998) ‘E. L. Thorndike and the

Origins of Animal Psychology; On the Nature of the Animal in Psychology’,

American Psychologist, vol. 53, no. 10 (pp. 1138–1142).

Henninger-Voss, Mary (2002) Animals in Human Histories: The Mirror of Nature

and Culture, Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2002.

Heshusius, C. A. (c. 1978) KNIL–Cavalerie, 1814–1950: Geschiedenis van de

Cavalerie en Pantsertroepen van het Koninklijk Nederlands–Indische Leger

[History of the Light and Heavy Cavalry of the Royal Netherlands-Indies

Army], [no place].

Hitchcock, Michael J. (1983) Technology and Society in Bima, Sumbawa, with special

reference to House Building and Textile Manufacture, Oxford: University of

Oxford. [PhD thesis, Department of Ethnology and Prehistory].

Hoekstra, Pieter (1948) ‘Paardenteelt op het Eiland Soemba’ [Horsebreeding on the

Island of Sumba], Batavia [PhD thesis, Universiteit van Indonesië, Batavia].

—— (1948) Paardenteelt op het Eiland Soemba [Horsebreeding on the Island of

Sumba], Batavia: Drukkerij V/H John Kappee.

Hoen, H. ‘t (1919) Veerassen en Veeteelt in Nederlandsch–Indië [Livestock Breeds

and Stockbreeding in the Netherlands Indies] Weltevreden: Kolff.

Hogendorp, Willem van (1779–1780) ‘Beschryving van het Eiland Timor, voor

Zoo Verre het tot Nog toe Bekend is’ [Description of the Island of Timor,

in So Far as it is Known till Now], Verhandeling Bataviaasch Genootschap,

vol. 2.

Ileto, Reynaldo (1998) ‘Hunger in Southern Tagalog, 1897–1898’. In Reynaldo

Ileto, Filipinos and their Revolution: Event, Discourse, and Historiography,

Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila Press.

Ingold, Tim (1980) Hunters, Pastoralists and Rancher Reindeer Economies and

Their Transformations, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Instituut voor Nederlandse Geschiedenis, VOC–Glossarium [VOC glossary] (2000)

Den Haag: Instituut voor Nederlandsche Geschiedenis.

‘Inventario de los Cinco Caballos Arabes del Estado que Existen en este Gobierno

que por Orden del Exmo Sor. Gobor. Gral. del Archipielago se Remiten a



Disposicion del Ecmo. Sor. Director Gral. de Admon. Civil por Conducto del

Vapor ‘Elcano’, 12 February’ [Record of the Five Arab Stallions Currently

in the Possession of the State that by Order of the Governor–general of

this Archipelago are placed at the Disposition of the Director–general of

Civil Administration by Means of the Steamship ‘Elcano’ ] (1890), Philippine

National Archives, Raza de Caballeria de Filipinas, Formento y Mejora.

Isenberg, Andrew (2000) The Destruction of the Bison, Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press.

Ito, Takeshi (1984) ‘The World of the Adat Aceh, a Historical Study of the Sultanate

of Aceh’, PhD thesis, Australian National University.

[Jaarboek] (1907–1930) Jaarboek van het Departement van Landbouw, Nijver heid

en Handel in Nederlandsch–Indië [Year–book of the Department of Agri-

culture in the Netherlands–Indies] [24 volumes, covering selected years

between 1906 and 1929], Batavia: Landsdrukkerij; Weltevreden: Albrecht.

[Jaarverslag] (1923–1941) Jaarverslag van de Burgerlijke Veeartsenijkundige

Dienst (BVD) [Yearly report of the Civil Veterinary Service] [29 volumes,

covering selected years between 1922 and 1940], Batavia: Departement van

Economische Zaken.

Jacottet, E. (1908) The Treasury of Ba–Suto Lore, Morija: Sesuto Book Depot.

Jardine, Lisa and Jerry Brotton. (2000) Global Interests: Renaissance Art between

East and West, Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Jasper, J.E. (1908) ‘Het Eiland Soembawa en zijn Bevolking’ [The Island of Sum-

bawa and its Population], Tijdschrift voor het Binnenlandsch Bestuur, vol.

34 (pp. 60–147).

Jennings, Eric (1970) The Singapore Turf Club, Singapore: Singapore Turf Club.

Jones, A. M. Barrett (1984) Early Tenth Century Java from Inscriptions, Dordrecht,

Cinnaminson: Foris (Verhandelingen KITLV, 107).

Jones, Susan (2003) Valuing Animals: Veterinarians and Their Patients in Modern

America, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Jong Boers, Bernice de (1994) ‘Tambora 1815: De Geschiedenis van een Vulkaan-

uitbarsting in Indonesië’ [Tambora 1815: The History of a Volcanic Eruption

in Indonesia], Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, vol. 107, no. 3 (pp. 371–392).

—— (1995) ‘Mount Tambora in 1815: A Volcanic Eruption in Indonesia and its

Aftermath’, Indonesia, vol. 60 (pp. 36–60).

—— (1995) ‘Horses: One of the First Commodities of the Island of Sumbawa

(Indonesia)’, Yogyakarta/Leiden Gadjah Mada University/Leiden University.

[Paper written for the first Summer Course in Indonesian Modern Economic

History, unpublished].

—— (1997) ‘Some Notes on the History of Livestock in Indonesia (with a Special

Focus on Sumbawa)’ [Paper written for the conference on ‘Animals in Asia:

relationships and representations’, 15–16 September 1997, unpublished].

—— (1997) ‘Paardenfokkerij op Sumbawa (1500–1930)’ [Horse Breeding on the Island

of Sumbawa (1500–1930)], Spiegel Historiael, vol. 32, no. 10/11 (pp. 438–443).


Bibliography 233

—— (2000/2001) ‘Een Proefschrift in Wording over de Milieu geschiedenis van

het Eiland Sumbawa, Indonesië’ [A Note on Writing a PhD Thesis about the

Environmental History of the Island of Sumbawa, Indonesia], De Boekerij:

Mededelingenblad van de Vereniging Vrienden der Bibliotheek van de Konink-

lijke Nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschappen, vol. 5, no. 3/vol. 6, no. 1,

(pp. 10–15).

Jonge, Jan Karel Jacob de, (& M. L. van Deventer) (1862–1895) De Opkomst van het

Nederlandsch Gezag in Oost–Indië. Versameling van Onuitgegeven Stukken

uit het Oud–koloniaal Archief (1595–1814) [The Rise of Dutch Power in the

East Indies: Collection of Unpublished Documents from the Old–Colonial

Archives (1595–1814)], 17 vols, ’s–Gravenhage: Nijhoff.

José Sora to Sor. Corregidor de Manila (1878), Philippine National Archives,

Animales Sueltos, Corregimiento de Manila.

Judd, B.C. (1938) ‘With the C. M. R’, Nongquai, June.

Junghuhn, Franz Wilhelm (1853–1854) Java, zijne Gedaante, zijn Plantetooi en

Inwendige Bouw [Java, its Appearance, its Flora, and its Morphology], 3

vols, ‘s–Gravenhage: Mieling.

Kaempfer, Engelbert 91987) A Description of the Kingdom of Siam 1690, trans.

J.G. Scheuchzer, Bangkok: White Orchid Press.

Kaur, Amarjit (1985) Bridge and Barrier, Transport and Communications in

Colon ial Malaya, 1870–1957, Singapore: Oxford University Press.

Kay, Robert (1939) ‘Java Ponies and Others’, The Horse (Illustrated), The Quarterly

Review of the Institute of the Horse and Pony Club, vol. 11, no. 41 (pp. 24–7).

Kelly, Joan (1984) Women, History and Theory: The Essays of Joan Kelly, Chicago

and London: University of Chicago Press.

Kemp, Pieter Hendrik, van der (1890) ‘Historisch Overzicht van de Pogingen

Aangewend tot Verbetering en Veredeling van het Paardenras in Neder-

landsch–Indië’ [Historical Overview of the Attempts to Improve the Breed

of Horses in the Netherlands Indies], Veeartsenijkundige Bladen voor Nerder-

landsch–Indië,1890, vol. 4 (pp. 327–387).

Kennedy, John (1992) The New Anthropomorphism, Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-

versity Press, 1992.

Kete, Kathleen (1994) The Beast in the Boudoir: Pet-keeping in Nineteenth Century

Paris, Berkeley: University of California Press

Kidd, Jane (1985) The Horse The Complete Guide to Horse Breeds and Breeding,

London: Longmeadow Press.

Kipling, J. L. (1921) Beast and Man in India, a Popular Sketch of Indian Animals

in their Relation with People, London: Macmillan.

Kistermann, H. (1990) ‘De Paardenhandel van Nusa Tenggara 1815–1941’ [The

Horse Trade in Nusa Tenggara], Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit, [Unpublished

doctoral thesis].

Klaits, Joseph and Barrie Klaits (eds) (1974) Animals and Man in Historical Per-

spective, New York: Harper & Row.



Knight, John (ed.) (2004) Wildlife in Asia: Cultural Perspectives, London and New

York: Routledge Curzon.

Kniphorst, J. H. P. E. (1885) ‘Een Terugblik op Timor en Onderhoorigheden’ [A

Review of Timor and its Dependencies], Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch Indië,

vol. 14, no. 1 (pp. 355–80, 401–83) and no. 2 (pp. 1–41, 81–146, 198–204,

241–311, 321–62).

Koert, E. (1912) ‘Stock Breeding in the Catanduanes Islands’, Philippine Agri-

cultural Review, vol. 5 (pp. 305–308).

Kolbe, P. The present state of the Cape of Good Hope, 1713, trans. G. Medley,

London: W. Innys and R. Manly.

Kolbe, Peter (1727) Naaukeurige en Uitvoerige Beschryving van Kaap de Goede

Hoop, Amsterdam: B. Lakeman.

Koloniaal Verslag, (1849–) The Hague: M. Nijhoff.

Kretzer, David (1928) ‘How to Build Up and Improve a Herd or Flock (With

Description of their Most Common Diseases in the Philippines)’, Philippine

Agricultural Review, vol. 21 (pp. 215–330).

Krom Sinlapakon (Fine Arts Department) (1969) Tamra phichai songkhram

[Manual on Warfare], Bangkok: Fine Arts Department.

—— (1978) Ruang kotmai tra sam duang [The Law of the Three Seals] Bangkok:

Fine Arts Department.

—— (1987) Krabuan phayuhayatra sathonlamak samai somdet phra narai maharat

chamlong chak ton chabab nangsu samud thai khong ho samud haeng chat

[Royal Land Procession in King Narai’s Reign from old Thai Manuscript

in National Library], and Riu krabuan hae phayuhayatra thang chonlamak

chak ton chabab nangsusamud thai khong ho samud haeng chat [Water

Procession from King Narai’s Reign] Bangkok: Fine Arts Department.

—— (1994) Prachum phongsawadan phak thi 82. Ruang phra ratcha phong-

sawadan krung siam chak ton chabab khong british museum krung london

[‘British Museum’ Recension of the Ayutthaya Royal Chronicles] Bangkok:

Fine Arts Department.

—— (2001) Tamra ma khong kao kap tamra laksana ma [Old Horse Manuals]

Bangkok: Fine Arts Department.

Kuperus, Gerrit (1936) Het Cultuurlandschap van West–Soembawa [The Man–

made Landscape of Western–Sumbawa], Groningen, Batavia: J.B. Wolters.

[PhD thesis Rijksuniversiteit Utrecht].

—— (1938) ‘Beschouwingen over de Ontwikkeling en den Huidigen Vormenrijkdom

van het Cultuurlandschap in de Onderafdeeling Bima (Oost–Soembawa)’

[Considerations on the Genesis of the Current Polymorphology in the Man–

Made Landscape in the District Bima (Eastern Sumbawa)], Tijd schrift van

het Koninklijk Aardrijkskundig Genootschap (KNAG), vol. 55, no. 2 (pp.

207–239).

‘La Aprehensión de 23 Individuos de la Provincia de la Laguna y Cavite, Manila,

15 June 1891’ [The Detention of 23 Suspects from the Provinces of Laguna


Bibliography 235

and Cavite, Manila, 15 June 1891] (1891), Philippine National Archives,

Cuadril leros, Bundle 1.

La Loubère, Simon de (1969) The Kingdom of Siam, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford Uni-

versity Press.

Lamarck, Jean Baptiste (1809) Philosophie Zoologique, 2 vols, Paris.

Landen, Robert G. (1967) Oman since 1856, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Landry, Donna (2004) ‘The Bloody Shouldered Arabian and Early Modern English

Culture’, Criticism, Winter (pp. 41–69).

Law, Robin (1980) The Horse in West African History, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Lawrence, Elizabeth (1981) Rodeo: An Anthropologist Looks at the Wild and the

Tame, Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press.

—— (1990) ‘Rodeo Horses: the Wild and the Tame’. In R. Willis, Signifying Animals

– Human Meaning in the Natural World, London: Rout ledge (pp. 222–235).

Lee, C. G. et. al (2000) ‘A Review of the Jindo, Korean Native Dog’, Asian–Australasian

Journal of Animal Sciences, vol. 13, no. 3, 2000, (pp. 381–389).

Legarda, Benito (1999) After the Galleons: Foreign Trade, Economic Change

and Entrepreneurship in the Nineteenth–Century Philippines, Quezon City:

Ateneo de Manila.

Leibbrandt, H. C. V. (1900) Precis of the Archives of the Cape of Good Hope:

Letters Received, 1695–1708, Cape Town: Richards, vol. I, 1898, vol. II.

Lévi–Strauss, Claude (1963) Totemism, Boston: Beacon Press.

Lewin, Roger (1994) ‘I Buzz Therefore I Think’, New Scientist, 15 January (pp.

29–32).

Lichtenstein, H. (1928–1930) Travels in Southern Africa in the Years 1803, 1804,

1805 and 1806, Cape Town: The Van Riebeeck Society.

Lichtenstein, W. H. C. (1973) Foundation of the Cape, About the Becuanas: Being

a History of the Discovery and Colonisation of South Africa [1811, 1807],

trans. O. H. Spohr, Cape Town: Balkema.

Ligtvoet, Albertus (1876) ‘Aanteekeningen Betreffende den Economischen Toe-

stand en de Ethnographie van het Rijk van Soembawa’ [Notes Concerning the

Economic Situation and the Ethnography of the Realm of Sumbawa], Tijdschrift

voor Indische Taal–, Land– en Volkenkunde (TBG) vol. 23 (pp. 555–592).

Limakatso Kendall, K. (1995) Basali! Stories by and about women in Lesotho.

Pieter maritz burg: University of Natal Press.

Linn, Brian McAllister (2000) The Philippine War 1899–1902, Lawrence, Kansas:

University of Kansas Press.

‘Live Stock and Poultry in the Philippines; Horses’ (1911) The Philippine Agri-

cultural Review, vol. 4 (pp. 476–83).

Livingstone, David (1857) Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa,

London: Murray.

Livingstone, David (1987) ‘Human Acclimatization: Perspectives on a Contested

Field of Inquiry in Science, Medicine and Geography’, History of Science, vol.

25 (pp. 359–394).



—— (1999) ‘Tropical Climate and Moral Hygiene; The Anatomy of a Victorian

Debate’, The British Journal for the History of Science, vol. 32 (pp. 93–110).

Lombard, Denys (1967) Le Sultanat d’Atjéh au Temp d’Iskandar Muda 1607–1636

[The Sultanate of Aceh in the Times of Iskandar Muda 1607–1636], Paris:

Ecole Française d’Extrême–Orient.

—— (ed.) (1996) Mémoires d’un Voyage aux Indes Orientales 1619–1622 [Memoires

of a Voyage to the East Indies, 1619–1622]: Augustin de Beaulieu, un Mar-

chand Normand à Sumatra [no pl.], Paris: Maisonneuve & Larose.

Loomba, Ania (1998) Colonialism/Postcolonialism, London and New York: Rout-

ledge.

Lush, J. L. The Genetics of Populations, Mimeo: University of Iowa Press, 1948; see

‘From Jay L. Lush to Genomics: Visions for Animal Breeding and Genetics’,

Conference Proceedings, May 16–18, 1999, Department of Animal Science,

Iowa State University.

Lye, William (ed.) (1975) Andrew Smith’s Journal of his Expedition into the Interior

of South Africa, 1834–36, Cape Town: A. A. Balkema, October 1834.

Macknight, C. C. (1980) ‘Outback to Outback: The Indonesian Archipelago and

Northern Australia’. In J. J. Fox (ed.), Indonesia, the Making of a Culture,

Canberra: Australian National University (pp. 137–48).

Magner, Lois (1992) A History of Medicine, New York: Marcel Dekker Inc.

Mahamakut Ratchawitthayalai [Mahamakut Buddhist University] (1982) Phra

Traibidok Lae Atthakatha Thai [The Tripitaka], Bangkok: Mahamakut Bud-

dhist University.

Malcolmson, Robert and Stephanos Mastoris (1998) The English Pig: A History,

London and Rio Grande: Hambledon Press.

Mallat, Jean (1983) The Philippines: History, Geography, Customs, Agriculture, In-

dus try and Commerce of the Spanish Colonies in Oceania, Manila: National

Historical Institute.

Manila Jockey Club, The (1997) The Manila Jockey Club: 130 Years of Horse Racing

in Southeast Asia, Manila: Manila Jockey Club.

Manning, Aubrey and James Serpell (1994) Animals and Human Society: Changing

Perspectives, London: Routledge.

Manuel, Mauro, Mario Tongson, Teodulo Topacio and Grace de Ocampo (eds.)

(2002), A Century of Veterinary Medicine in the Philippines, Quezon City:

University of the Philippines Press.

Manuel de Vos to Gobernador Civil de Provincia de Manila (1896) Philippine

National Archives, Animales Sueltos, Corregimiento de Manila.

Marche, Alfred (1905, 1968) Luzon and Palawan, Manila: Filipiniana Book Guild.

Marks, Shula (1972) ‘Khoisan Resistance to the Dutch in the Seventeenth and

Eighteenth Centuries’, Journal of African History. 13 (pp. 55–80).

Marsden, William (1975) The History of Sumatra, Kuala Lumpur, etc.: Oxford

Uni versity Press.

Martin, Minnie (1903) Basutoland – Its Legends and Customs, London: Nichols.


Bibliography 237

Mas, Sinibaldo de (1843) Informe sobre el Estado de las Islas Filipinas En 1842

[Report on the State of the Philippine Islands in 1842], Madrid: Imprenta

de L. Sancha.

Mason, I. L., and Maule, J. P. (1960) The Indigenous Livestock of Eastern and

Southern Africa, Farnham: Commonwealth Agricultural Bureaux.

Mason, Jeffrey and Susan McCarthy (1995) When Elephants Weep: The Emotional

Lives of Animals, New York: Delta.

Mauritius Almanac and Colonial Register, 1926–27, Port Louis: General Printing

and Stationery Co.

Maximo Loilla to Director–General de Administración Civil (1889) Philippine

National Archives, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7.

McClintock, Anne (1995) Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the

Colonial Context, New York and London: Routledge.

McEvoy, Arthur (1986) The Fisherman’s Problem: Ecology and the Law in the

California Fisheries 1850–1980, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

McLennan, Marshall (1980) The Central Luzon Plain: Land and Society on the

Inland Frontier, Quezon City: Alemar–Phoenix Publishing House.

McNeill, William and John R. McNeill (2003) The Human Web: A Bird’s-Eye View

of World History, New York: W.W. Norton.

Melville, Elinor (1994) A Plague of Sheep: Environmental Consequences of the Con-

quest of Mexico, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

‘Memoria de Ramon’ (1893) Philippine National Archives, Servicios de Agri-

cultoras, Cebu 1890–97.

‘Memoria Preliminar para la Ejecución del Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de

la Cria Caballar de Este Archipiélago’ [Preliminary Report on the Manage-

ment of the Project to Reinvigorate and Improve the Breed of Horse of

this Archipelago] (1883) Philippine National Archives, Raza de Caballeria,

Formento y Mejora.

‘Memoria sobre un Tranvia, Cebu’ (1893) Philippine National Archives, Servicios

de Agricultoras, Cebu 1890–97.

Memorieën van Overgave (MvO) [Memoranda of Transfer] The Nationaal

Archief in The Haque, archives of the Ministerie van Kolonieën after

1900; MMK 340: MvO, C.H. van Rietschoten, Timor en Onderhorigheden

[Timor and Dependencies], 25–7–1913; MMK 342: MvO, C. Schultz,

Timor en Onderhorigheden [Timor and Dependencies], 13–6–1927;

MMK 343: MvO, P.F.J. Karthaus, Timor en Onderhorigheden [Timor

and Dependencies], 6–5–1931; MMK 344: MvO, E.H. de Nijs Bik, Timor

en Onderhorigheden [Timor and Depend encies], 16–6–1934; MMK 34:

MvO, J.J. Bosch, Timor en Onderhorigheden [Timor and Depend encies],

29–3–1938; KIT 1213, Militaire Memorie over de Afdeeling Soembawa

[Military Report on the Region of Sumbawa], anonymous, 1929; KIT

1268, MvO, A. Couvreur, Timor en Onderhorigheden [Timor and Depend-

encies], 21–7–1924.



Mentzel, O. F. (1920) Life at the Cape in the Mid–Eighteenth Century [1784], trans.

M. Greenless, reprinted Cape Town: Darter Brothers (pp. 146–156).

Merkens, Jan (1923) De Veeteelt in Nederlandsch–Indië [Cattle Breeding in the

Netherlands–Indies] [Veeartsenijkundige Mededeeling, no. 47].

—— (1924) ‘De Grootveestapel van Nederlandsch–Indië’ [The Livestock Population

of the Netherlands–Indies], Koloniale Studiën, vol. 8 (part I) (pp. 189–219).

Midgley, Mary (1984) Animals and Why They Matter, Athens: Georgia University Press.

Miller, Hugo H. (1920) Economics Conditions in the Philippines, Boston: Ginn & Co.

Mitchell, B. R. (1998) International Historical Statistics, London: Macmillan.

Mitchell, Robert, Nicholas Thompson and H. Lyn Miles (eds) (1997) Anthropo-

morph ism, Anecdotes and Animals, Albany: State University of New York

Press.

Mitzmain, M. (1912) ‘Collected Notes on the Insect Transmission of Surra in

Carabaos’, Philippine Agricultural Review, vol. 5, no. 12 (p. 679).

Montero y Vidal, José (1886) El Archipiélago Filipino y las Islas Marianas, Caro linas

y Palaos Su Historia, Geografía y Estadística [The Philippine Archipelago

and the Marianas, Carolinas and Palau Islands Their History, Geography

and Statistical Profile] Madrid: Imprenta y Fundición de Manuel Tello.

—— (1895) Historia General de Filipinas, desde el Descubrimiento de Dichas Islas

Hasta Nuestros Días [A General History of the Philip pines, Since the Discovery

of the Said Islands until Nowadays], Madrid: Establecimiento Tipográfico de

la Viuda é Hijos de Tello.

Moor, J. H. (1968 reprint of 1837 edn) Notices of the Indian Archipelago and

Adjacent Countries, London: Oxford University Press.

Moree, P. J. (1998) A Concise History of Dutch Mauritius, 1598–1710, London:

Kegan Paul International.

Morga, Antonio de (1973) ‘Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas, 1609’. In Blair and

Robert son, The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 16 (pp. 27–209).

Muhammad Rabi, ibn Muhammad Ibrahim (1972) The Ship of Sulaiman, trans.

John O’Kane, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Mullin, Molly (1999 ) ‘Mirrors and Windows: Sociocultural Studies of Human–Animal

Relationships’, Annual Review of Anthropology, vol. 28 (pp. 201–224).

National Archives, Public Record Office, London, DO119/1096.

[Nederlands–Indische Bladen] (1924) ‘Het Veeteeltbedrijf in den Ambts kring

Soem bawa–Besar’ [Animal husbandry in the District Sumbawa–Besar], Neder-

lands–Indische Bladen voor Diergeneeskunde en Dierenteelt (NIBDD), vol. 36

(pp. 356–357).

Nel, J. J. (1930) ‘Perdeteelt in Suid–Afrika, 1652–1752’. MA thesis: University of

Stellenbosch.

Nicols, Nicholas (1973) ‘Commerce of the Philippine Islands, 1759’. In Blair and

Robertson, The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 47 (pp. 251–284).

Noble, John (ed.) (1886) Official Handbook of the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Town:

Soloman.


Bibliography 239

Noordijk, P., and J. van der Weijde (1856) ‘Staat van den Veerstapel in de 1e en 3e

Afdeeling op Java’ [Situation of Livestock in the 1st and 3rd Division of Java],

Tijdschrift voor Nijverheid in Nederlandsch Indië, 1856, vol 3 (pp. 167–201).

Noorduyn, J. (1987) Bima en Sumbawa: Bijdragen tot de Geschiedenis van de

Sultanaten Bima en Sumbawa door A. Ligtvoet en G.P. Rouffaer. [Bima

and Sumbawa: Contributions to the History of the Sultanates of Bima and

Sumbawa by A.Ligtvoet and G.P. Rouffaer], Dordrecht: Foris [KITLV, Ver-

handel ingen 129].

Noske, Barbra (1989) Humans and Other Animals: Beyond the Boundaries of

Anthropology, Pluto Press, 1989.

Nusa Tenggara (1979) Nusa Tenggara dalam Angka, 1978 [Nusa Tenggara in

Statistics, 1978], Mataram: Kantor Sensus dan Statistik Propinsi NTB.

—— (1988) Nusa Tenggara dalam Angka, 1987 [Nusa Tenggara in Statistics, 1987],

Mataram: BAPPEDA dan Kantor Statistik Propinsi NTB.

Official Year Book of the Union, and of Basutoland, Bechuanaland Protectorate,

and Swaziland (1922), Government Printer: Pretoria.

Olivier, Johannes. (1828) Land– en Zeetogten in Nederlands Indië, en Eenige

Britsche Etablissementen, Gedaan in de Jaren 1817 tot 1826 [Journeys by

Land and Sea in the Netherlands–Indies, and some British Establishments,

Made in the Years Between 1817 and 1826, Part II], Amsterdam: Sulpke

[On the Different Races] (1837, 1986) ‘On the Different Races of the Horse in the

Malayan Archipelago and Adjacent Countries’. In Moor, J.H (ed.) Notices of

the Indian Archipelago and adjacent Countries, London: Frank Cass (pp.

189–190).

Osborne, Michael (1994) Nature, the Exotic, and the Science of French Colonial-

ism, Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.

Overgekomen Brieven en Papieren (OBP) [Transmitted Letters and Papers] The

Nationaal Archief in The Haque, VOC archives. OBP no. 1240; OBP no. 1246;

OBP no. 1269; OBP no. 1281; OBP no. 1287; OBP no. 1294; OBP no. 1301.

Palmer, D. and Victor Buencamino (1913) ‘The College of Veterinary Science,

University of the Philippines’, Philippine Agricultural Review, vol. 6 (pp.

368–370).

Pankhurst, Richard (1968) Economic History of Ethiopia, 1800–1935, Addis

Ababa: Haile Selassie I University Press.

Parimartha, I. Gde (1995) ‘Perdagangan dan Politik di Nusa Tenggara, 1815–1915’,

Doctoral Thesis, Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam.

Philo, Chris and Chris Wilbert (eds) (2000) Animal Spaces, Beastly Places: New

Geographies of Human–Animal Relations, London: Routledge.

Pigeaud, Theodore G. T. (1960–1963) Java in the 14th Century: A Study in Cultural

History, 5 vols, The Hague: Nijhoff (KITLV Translation series, 4).

Playne, Somerset (1910–1911) Cape Colony (Cape Province): Its History, Com-

merce, Industries and Resources, London: Foreign and Colonial Compiling

and Publishing Co.



‘Pliego de Condiciones de Carrera de Caballo de la Provincia de la Pampanga’

[Details of the Main Horse Track of the Province of Pampanaga] (1879)

Philip pine National Archives, Carreras de Caballos, Bundle 1.

‘Pliego de la Matanza y Limpieza de Reses, Fecha 4 de Mayo de 1880, Manila

1 March 1889’ [Folder on the Slaughtering and Cleaning of Cattle, 1889]

(1889), Philippine National Archives, Matanzas y Limpieza de Reses.

Pongsripian, Winai (ed.) (1991) Khamhaikan khun luang wat pradu songtham

[Testimony of Khun Luang Wat Pradu Songtham], Bangkok: Secretariat of

the Prime Minister’s Office.

—— (ed.) (2005) Kot monthianban chabab chaloem phra kiat [Palat ine Law, Royal

Celebratory Edition], Bangkok: Thailand Research Fund.

Postma, Dirk (1897)De Trekboeren te St. Januario Humpata, Amsterdam: [no

publisher].

Postma, M. (1974) Tales from the BaSotho, Trans. S. McDermid. Austin: University

of Texas Press.

‘Proyecto de Renovación y Mejora de la Cria Caballar’ [Project to Reinvigorate

and Improve the Breed of Horse of this Archipelago] (1881), Philippine

National Archives, Raza de Caballeria de Filipinas, Formento y Mejora.

Ptak, Roderich (1991) ‘Pferde auf See, ein Vergessener Aspekt des Maritimen

Chinesischen Handels im Frühen 15. Jahrhundert’, Journal of the Economic

and Social History of the Orient, vol. 34, no. 2 (pp. 199–233).

—— (1999) China’s Seabourne Trade with South and Southeast Asia (1200–1750),

Aldershot: Ashgate.

Purchas, Samuel (1625) Purchas His Pilgrims, Book III, London: William Stansby.

‘Quarantine Stations’ (1910), Philippine Agricultural Review, vol. 3 (pp. 27–28).

Quiason, Serafin D. (1966) English ‘Country Trade’ with the Philippines, 1644–

1765, Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press.

Raben, Remco and Dhiravat na Pombejra (eds.) (1997) In the King’s Trail, Bang-

kok: Royal Netherlands Embassy.

Raber, Karen and Treva J. Tucker (eds), The Culture of the Horse: Status, Discip-

line, and Identity in the Early Modern World, New York: Palgrave Macmillan,

2005.

Radermacher, Jacob Cornelis Matthieu (1786) ‘Korte Beschrijving van het Eiland

Celebes en de Eilanden Floris, Sumbauwa, Lombok en Bali’ [Short De scrip-

tion of the Island of Celebes and the Islands Flores, Sumbawa, Lombok and

Bali], Verhandelingen van het Bataviaasch Genootschap voor Kunsten en

Wetenschappen (VBG), vol. 4 (pp. 143–196).

Raffles, Thomas Stamford (1830) The History of Java, 2 vols., London: Murray

[1st edition 1817].

Reinwardt, Caspar Georg Carl (1858) Reis naar het Oostelijk Gedeelte van den

Indischen Archipel, in het Jaar 1821 [Journey to the Eastern Part of the

Indian Archipelago, in the Year 1821], Edited by W.H. de Vriese. Amsterdam:

Frederik Muller.


Bibliography 241

‘Relación de los Caballos, [Pertaining to Horses], San Pascual 10 February 1889’

(1889) Philippine National Archives, Carruajes, Carros y Caballos, Bundle 7.

‘Remarks on the Philippine Islands, and on their Capital Manila, 1819 to 1822, By

an Englishman, 1828’ (1973). In Blair and Robertson, The Philippine Islands,

1493–1898, vol. 51 (pp. 71–181).

Report of the Philippine Commission to the President, January 31, 1900 (1900)

Washington: Government Print Office.

Report of the Philippine Commission, 1903 (1904) Washington: Government Print-

ing Office.

Report of the Philippine Commission, 1904, (1905) Washington: Government Print-

ing Office.


ing Office.


ing Office.

Richards, John (2003) The Unending Frontier: An Environmental History of the

Early Modern World, Berkeley: University of California Press.

Richardson, Clive (1998) The Horse Breakers, London: J.A. Allen.

Ricklefs, Merle Calvin (1981) A History of Modern Indonesia, Houndmills, Basing-

stoke, Hampshire and London: Macmillan [Macmillan Asian Histories

Series].

Rimmer, Peter J. (1990) ‘Hackney Carriages, Syces and Rikisha Pullers in Singa-

pore: A Colonial Registrar’s Perspective on Public Transport, 1892–1923’.

In Peter J. Rimmer and Lisa M. Allen (eds), The Underside of Malaysian

History: Pullers, Prostitutes and Plantation Workers, Singapore: Singapore

University Press (pp. 129–60).

Ritvo, Harriet (1987) The Animal Estate: The English and Other Creatures in the

Victorian Age, Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

—— (1994) ‘Possessing Mother Nature: Genetic Capital in 18th–Century Britain’.

In Susan Staves and John Brewer (eds), Early Modern Conceptions of Prop-

erty, London: Routledge, 1994 (pp. 413–426).

—— (1997) The Platypus and the Mermaid and other Figments of the Classifying

Imagination, Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press.

—— (2002) ‘History and Animal Studies’, Society and Animals, vol. 10, (pp. 403–

406).

—— (2004) ‘Animal Planet’, Environmental History, vol. 9, no. 2 (pp. 204–220).

Romanes, George (1882) Animal Intelligence, New York: Appleton.

—— (1883) Mental Evolution in Animals, London: Kegan, Paul, Trench.

Romero, Patricia W. (1997) Lamu: History, Society, and Family in an East African

Port City, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Roorda van Eysinga, Philippus Pieter (1830–1832) Verschillende Reizen en Lot-

gevallen van S. Roorda van Eysinga [Various Travels and Adventures of S.

Roorda van Eysinga], 4 vols, Amsterdam, van der Heij.



Rosenthal, Eric (1964) Encyclopaedia of Southern Africa, London: Warne.

Rouffaer, Gerret Pieter and Jan Willem IJzerman (eds) (1915) De Eerste Schipvaart

der Nederlanders naar Oost-Indië onder Cornelis de Houtman, 1595–1597;

I: D’Eerste boeck, van Willem Lodewyckz [The First Sea Journey of the Dutch

to the East Indies under Cornelis de Houtman, 1595–1597; I: The First

Book, by Willem Lodewyckz],’s-Gravenhage: Nijhoff (Werken Linschoten

Vereeniging 7).

Ross, R. (1993) Beyond the Pale, Essays on the History of Colonial South Africa.

Hanover: Wesleyan University Press.

Rothfels, Nigel (2002) Savages and Beasts: The Birth of the Modern Zoo, Baltimore

and London: Johns Hopkins University Press.

—— (ed.) (2003) Representing Animals, Bloomington: University of Indiana Press.

Rowbotham, Shelia (1973) Hidden from History: 300 Years of Women’s Oppres-

sion and the Fight Against It, London: Pluto Press.

Ruangsilp, Bhawan (2007) Dutch East India Company Merchants at the Court of

Ayutthaya: Dutch Perceptions of the Thai Kingdom, c.1604–1765, Leiden/

Boston: Brill.

Rueda y Mendoza, Diego de (1973) ‘Royal Festivities at Manila, 1 August, 1625’.

In Blair and Robertson (eds), The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 22 (pp.

50–61).

Rupke, Nicolas (ed.) (1987) Vivisection in Historical Perspective, London: Rout-

ledge.

Russell, Nicholas (1986) Like Engend’ring Like: Heredity and Animal Breeding in

Early Modern England, London: Cambridge University Press.

Said, Edward (1978) Orientalism, New York: Pantheon Books.

Salahuddin, H. St. Maryam R. and H. Abdul Wahab H. Ismail (1988/1989) Pemerintah

Adat Kerajaan Bima: Struktur dan Hukum.[Adat Prescriptions of the Kingdom

of Bima: Structure and Legislation], Mataram: Departemen Pendidikan dan

Kebudayaan. [Museum Negeri Nusa Tenggara Barat].

Salisbury, Joyce (1986) The Beast Within: Animals in the Middle Ages, New York:

Routledge.

Sanders, Peter (1975) Moshoeshoe: Chief of the Sotho, London: Heinemann.

Sastrodihardjo, Raden Soekardjo (1956) Beberapa Tjatatan Tentang Daerah Pulau

Sumbawa [Some Remarks Concerning the Island of Sumbawa], Singaradja:

Djawatan Petanian Rakjat Propinsi Nusa Tenggara.

Savory, P. (1962) Basuto Fireside Tales, Cape Town: Howard Timmins.

Savory, Theodore H. (1979) The Mule, a Historic Hybrid, Shildon: Meadowfield

Press.

Scarr, Deryck (2000) Seychelles since 1770, History of a Slave and Post–Slavery

Society, London: Hurst & Company.

Schérer, André (1985) La Réunion, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France.

Schooneveld-Oosterling, J. E. (ed.) (1997) Generale Missiven van Gouverneurs–

Generaal en Raden aan Heren XVII der Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie


Bibliography 243

[Correspondence of the Governors-general to the Board of the Dutch East

India Company], Vol. XI, The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.

Schouten, Joost (1986) ‘A Description of … Siam’. In François Caron and Joost

Schouten, A True Description of the Mighty Kingdoms of Japan and Siam

(facsimile of 1671 London edition), Bangkok: The Siam Society (pp.

121–152).

Schreuder, P. J. (1915) ‘The Cape Horse’, PhD thesis, Ithaca: Cornell University.

Scott, William (1994) Barangay: Sixteenth Century Philippine Culture and Society,

Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila.

Selections from the Dutch Records of the Ceylon Government No. 5. (1946) Col-

ombo: State Printing Corporation.

Serpell, James (1986) In the Company of Animals: A Study of Human–Animal

Relationships, Oxford: Blackwell.

Sessions, H. (1903) Two Years With Remount Commission, London: Chapman

and Hall.

Shepard, Paul (1995) The Others: How Animals Made Us Human, Washington,

D.C.: Island Press.

Sibinga Mulder, J. (1927) ‘De Economische Beteekenis van het Vee in Neder landsch

Oost–Indië en de Regeeringszorg Ervoor’ [The Economic Significance of

Livestock in the Netherlands East Indies and the Government Attendance

for it], De Indische Gids, vol. 19 (part I) (pp. 308–327).

Slatta, Richard (1990) Cowboys of the Americas, New Haven: Yale University

Press.

Smith, George Vinal (1977) The Dutch in Seventeenth–Century Thailand, De Kalb:

University of Northern Illinois Center for Southeast Asian Studies.

Smith, Neil (1996) ‘The Production of Nature’. In George Robertson, Melinda

Mash, Lisa Tickner, Jon Bird, Barry Curtis, and Tim Putnam (eds), Future

Natural Nature/Science/Culture, London and New York: Routledge (pp.

35–54).

‘Sobre los Gravisimos Perjuicios, 30 May 1807’ [Concerning the Severest of

Wrongs] (1807), Philippine National Archives, Spanish Manila, Reel 5.

Sparrman, A. (1975–1977) A Voyage to the Cape of Good Hope, Towards the

Antarctic Polar Circle, and Around the World, But Chiefly into the Country

of the Hottentots and Caffres, From the Year 1772 to 1776 [1785], Cape

Town: Van Riebeeck Society.

Stampa [no first name given] (1846) ‘De Paarden in Nederlandsch Oost–Indië’

[The Horses in the Netherlands East Indies], Militaire Spectator: Tijdschrift

voor het Nederlandsche Leger, vol 14 (pp. 167–174).

Stanton, William (1975) The Great United States Exploring Expedition of 1838–

1842, Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press.

Stibbe, David Gerhard (ed.) (1919) Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch–Indië, Tweede

druk, Derde deel, The Hague/Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff/E.J. Brill.

Straits Settlements Annual Reports, Singapore: Government Printing Office.



Summerhays, R. S. (1954) The Observer’s Book of Horses and Ponies, London:

Frederick Warne & Co.

‘Supresión del Impuesto sobre los Caballos, Abra 1889’ [Abolition of the Tax on

Horses, Abra 1889] (1889), Philippine National Archives, Carruajes, Carros

y Caballos, Bundle 7.

‘Surra’ (1908) Philippine Agricultural Review, vol. 1, (pp. 119–121).

Swabe, Joanna (1999) Animals, Disease and Human Society: Human–Animal Re-

lations and the Rise of Veterinary Medicine, London: Routledge.

Swart, Sandra (2003) ‘Riding High – Horses, Power and Settler Society, c. 1654–

1840’, Kronos, vol. 29, (Environmental History Special Issue), November

(pp. 47–63).

—— (2004) ‘“Race” Horses – A Discussion of Horses and Social Dy namics in Post–

Apartheid Southern Africa’. In N. Distiller and M. Steyn (eds), Under Con-

struction: ‘Race’ and Identity in South Africa Today, Sandton: Heine mann, pp.

13–24

—— (2005) ‘“Horses! Give Me More Horses!” – White Settler Society and the Role

of Horses in the Making of Early Modern South Africa’. In Karen Raber and

Treva Tucker (eds), The Culture of the Horse: Status, Discipline, and Identity

in the Early Modern World, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 311–328.

Syaraswati and M. Yusuf H. Umar (1985/1986) Upacara U’a Pua di Kabupaten

Bima (Pengaruh Agama Islam) [The U’a. Pua Ceremony in Kabupaten Bima

(the Influence of the Religion of Islam)], Mataram: Departemen Pendidikan

dan Kebudayaan, Museum Negeri Nusa Tenggara Barat.

‘Tarifa de los Honorarios’ [Price of Services] (1864), Philippine National Archives,

Veterinarios.

Taylor, Jean Gelman (2003) Indonesia: Peoples and Histories, New Haven/London:

Yale University Press.

Taylor, Pamela York (1994) Beasts, Birds, and Blossoms in Thai Art, Kuala Lumpur:

Oxford University Press.

Teenstra, Marten Douwes (1828–1830) De Vruchten mijner Werkzaamheden,

Gedurende mijne Reize naar Java [The Fruits of my Labours, During my

Journey to Java], 3 vols, Groningen: Eekhoff.

Temple, Richard Carnac (ed.) (1919) The Travels of Peter Mundy in Europe and

Asia, 1608–1667, vol. III, part 1 (1634–1637), London: Hakluyt Society (Works

issued by the Hakluyt Society, 2nd series, 45).

‘Testimonio 22 June 1849’ [Testimoy of 22 June 1849] (1849), Philippine National

Archives Matanzas y Limpieza de Reses.

Theal, George M. (1897–1905) Records of the Cape Colony, vol. XIV, London:

Clowes.

Thirsk, Joan (1978) Horses in Early Modern England For Service, For Pleasure, For

Power, Reading: University of Reading.

—— (ed.) (1985) The Agrarian History of England and Wales, Volume VII, 1640–

1750: Agrarian Change, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.


Bibliography 245

Thomas, Keith (1983) Man and the Natural World, New York: Pantheon Books.

Thompson, George (1827) Travels and Adventures in Southern Africa, London:

Henry Colburn.

Thompson, L. (1990) A History of South Africa, New Haven: Yale University Press.

Thorn, William (1993) Memoir of the Conquest of Java: With the Subsequent Oper-

ations of the British Forces in the Oriental Archipelago. Singapore: Periplus

Editions [Originally 1815].

Thorndike, Edward (1898) ‘Animal Intelligence: An Experimental Study of the As-

sociative Processes in Animals’, Psychological Monographs, vol. 2, no. 4 and 8.

Thorndike, Edward (1911) Animal Intelligence: Experimental Studies, New York:

Macmillan.

Thornton, Russel William (1936) The Origin and History of the Basotho Pony,

Morija: Morija Printing Works.

Thunberg, Charles (1793) Travels in Europe, Africa and Asia, Performed in the

Years 1770 and 1779, vol. II, London, 1793.

Toth, D. (2000) ‘The Psychology of Women and Horses’. In GaWaNí PonyBoy (ed.),

Of Women and Horses, Irvine: BowTie.

Tuan, Yi-Fu (1984) Dominance and Affection: The Making of Pets, New Haven:

Yale University Press.

Tuchman, B. (1966) The Proud Tower, Macmillan: New York.

Tylden, G. (1950) The Rise of the Basuto, Cape Town: Juta.

—— (1980) Horses and Saddlery, An Account of the Animals used by the British

and Commonwealth Armies from the Seventeenth Century to the Present

Day, with a Description of their Equipment, London: J. A. Allen.

‘Una Epizootia en Filipinas’ [An Epizootic in the Philippines] (1888) Philippine

National Archives, Veterinarios.

UNDP/FAO (1982) National Conservation Plan for Indonesia. Volume IV: Nusa

Tenggara. Bogor: UNDP/FAO. [Field Report no. 44 of The National Parks

Development Project, based on the work of John MacKinnon and others].

Valentijn, François (1724–1726) Oud en Nieuw Oost–Indiën [Old and New East

Indies], 5 vols. in 8 parts. Amsterdam: Onder den Linden.

Van der Merwe, F. J. (1981) Ken Ons Perderasse [Know our Horse Breeds], Cape

Town: Human and Rousseau.

Van der Walt, A. J. H. (1928) Die Ausdehnung der Kolonie am Kap der Guten

Hoffnung (1700–1779): Eine Historisch–Ökonomische Untersuchung über das

Werden und Wesen des Pionierlebens im 18. Jahrhundert, Berlin: Ebering.

Van Riebeeck, J. (1660) Journal of Jan Van Riebeeck, vol. III, 1954, 14 December.

Van Riebeeck, Jan H. and B. Thom (ed.) (1954) Journal of Jan Van Riebeeck. vol.

II, 1656–1658, Cape Town: A.A. Balkema.

Van Sittert, Lance and Sandra Swart (eds.) (2003) ‘Canis Familiaris – A Dog History

of South Africa’, South African Historical Journal, vol. 48, (pp. 138–251).

Van Spaan, Gerrit De Gelukzoeker, Rotterdam: De Vries, 1752, p. 28; J. van Rie-

beeck, Journal of Jan Van Riebeeck, vol. III, 1954, 14 December 1660.



Vasconcellos, Ernesto J. de Carvalho e (1896) As Colónias Portuguesas, Lisbon:

Companhia Nacional Editora.

Verheijen, Jilis A.J. (1967) Kamus Manggarai I: Manggarai–Indonesia [A Dic-

tionary of Manggarai I: Manggarai–Indonesian], ´s-Gravenhage: Martinus

Nijhoff [KITLV].

Veth, Pieter Johannes (1894) Het Paard onder de Volken van het Maleische Ras

[The Horse among the People of the Malay Race], Leiden: Brill.

Viana, Francisco de (1973) Memorial of 1765. In Blair and Robertson, The Philip-

pine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 48 (pp. 197–338).

Villaldea, Maria Isable Piquerras (2002) Las Comunicaciones en Filipinas durante

el Siglo XIX Caminos, Carreteras y Puentes [Communications in the Philip-

pines During the 19th Century Roads, Highways and Bridges], Madrid:

Archiviana.

Viveiros de Castro, Eduardo (1992) From the Enemy’s Point of View: Human ity and

Divinity in an Amazonian Society, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Vivít, Estevan (no date) Reseña Estadística de las Islas Filipinas en 1845 [Cur rent

Statistics of the Philippine Islands in 1845], Barcelona: Imprenta de A. Brosi.

Vliet, Jeremias van (2005) ‘Description of the Kingdom of Siam’, trans. L. F. van

Ravenswaay. In Chris Baker, Dhiravat na Pombejra, Alfons van der Kraan

and David K. Wyatt (eds.), Van Vliet’s Siam, Chiang Mai: Silkworm.

[Volkstelling 1930] (1936) Volkstelling 1930. Deel V: Inheemse Bevolking van

Borneo, Celebes, de Kleine Soenda Eilanden en de Molukken [Census 1930.

Part V: Indigenous Peoples of Borneo, Celebes, the Lesser Sunda Islands

and the Moluccas], Batavia: Landsdrukkerij.

Wallace, Robert (1896) Farming Industries of Cape Colony, London: King.

Ware, Vron (1992) Beyond the Pale: White Women, Racism and History, London

and New York: Verso.

Water, W. G. C. toe (1844) ‘Sampela, Een Tafereel van Bimanesche Zeden, Gewoonten

en Karakters’ [Sampela, a Scene of Bimanese Manners, Customs and Char-

acters], Tijdschrift van Nederlandsch–Indië (TNI), vol 6 (pp. 400–414), (pp.

549–563).

Watney, Marylian and Sanders (1975) Horse Power, London: Hamlyn.

Weide, J. van der, ‘Iets over de op Java Voorkomende Paarden’ [Data on the

Horses of Java], Tijdschrift voor Nijverheid in Nederlandsch-Indië, 1860,

vol. 7 (pp. 388–401).

Wernstedt, Frederick and J. E. Spencer (1978) The Philippine Island World: A

Physical, Cultural and Regional Geography, Berkeley: University of Cali-

fornia Press.

Wharton, William James Lloyd (ed.) (1893) Captain Cook’s Journal during his

First Voyage round the World made in H.M. Bark ‘ Endeavour’ 1768–71,

London: Stock.

White, Hayden (1987) The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Histor-

ical Representation, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.


Bibliography 247

White, Lynn (1967) ‘The Historical Roots of Our Ecological Crisis’, Science, vol.

155 (pp. 1203–1207).

Wilkes, Charles (1973) Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition during

the Years 1838, 1839, 1840, 1841, 1842. In Blair and Robertson, The Philip-

pine Islands, 1493–1898, vol. 43 (pp. 128–192).

Willerslev, Rane (2004) ‘Not Animal, Not Not–Animal: Hunting, Imitation and

Empathetic Knowledge among the Siberian Yukaghirs’, Journal of the Royal

Anthropological Institute, vol. 10 (pp. 629–652).

Williams, Bernard (1991) ‘Prologue: Making Sense of Humanity’. In James Sheehan

and Morton Sosna (ed.), The Boundaries of Humanity: Humans, Animals,

Machines, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press (pp.

13–23).

Willis, Roy (1967) Man and Beast, New York: Basic Books, 1974

—— (ed.) (1990), Signifying Animals: Human Meaning in the Natural World,

London: Routledge.

Wolch, Jennifer and Jody Emel (eds.) (1998), Animal Geographies: Place, Politics

and Identity in the Nature–Culture Borderlands, London: Verso.

Wolf, Eric (1997) Europe and the People Without History. Berkeley: University of

California Press.

Wolters, Oliver W. (1967) Early Indonesian Commerce: A Study of the Origins of

Srivijaya, Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press.

Worsfold, W. B. (1893) A Visit to Java, with an Account of the Founding of Singa-

pore, London: Bentley and Son.

Wyatt, David K. (1884) Thailand: A Short History, London and Bangkok: Yale

Uni versity Press.

Wyndham, H. A. (1924) The Early History of the Thoroughbred Horse in South

Africa, London: Humphrey Milford/Oxford University Press.

Yarwood, Alexander T. (1989) Walers: Australian Horses Abroad, Melbourne: Mel-

bourne University Press.

Yarwood, R. N. Evans, and J. Higginbottom (1997) ‘The Contemporary Geography

of Indigenous Irish Livestock’, Irish Geography, vol. 30 (pp. 17–30).

Yates, R., C. Powell, P. Beirne (2001) ‘Horse Maiming in the English Countryside:

Moral Panic, Human Deviance, and the Social Construction of Victimhood’,

Society & Animals, vol. 9, no. 1, (pp. 1–23).

Yearbook of Food and Agricultural Statistics (1947) Washington: Food and Agri-

culture Organization.

Yncidente sobre la Detención de un Caballo’ [Incident to do with Detaining a

Horse] (1884) Philippine National Archives, Animales Sueltos, Corregimiento

de Manila.

Young, Robert (1995) Colonial Desire: Hybridity in Theory, Culture and Race,

London: Routledge.

Zinsser, Hans (1963) Rats, Lice, and History: Being a Study in Biography, which,

after Twelve Preliminary Chapters Indispensable for the Preparation of the



Lay Reader, Deals with the Life History of Typhus Fever, London: Paper-

mac.

Zollinger, Heinrich (1850) ‘Verslag van eene Reis naar Bima en Soembawa en

naar Eenige Plaatsen op Celebes, Saleyer, en Floris Gedurende de Maanden

Mei tot December 1847’ [Report of a Journey to Bima and Sumbawa and

to Several Places on Celebes, Saleyer and Flores during the Months May to

December 1847], Verhandelingen van het Bataviaasch Genootschap voor

Kunsten en Wetenschappen (VBG), vol. 23 (pp. 1–224).


249

Abra, 89

Abra River, 95

accidents and injuries to horses,

95–96, 97

acclimatisation, 111, 112, 113, 119,

120, 202 nn.43, 50, 204 n.68

Aceh, 35–36, 37, 48, 69, 172 n.13

adornment of horses, 68, 118–119,

187 n.13, 204–205 n.76

Adriani, Nicolaus, 53

Africa, 1, 52

East, 27

First World War campaigns, 26

introduction of horses, 123

North, 2, 14, 23, 123

West, 9, 14, 123, 128, 206 n.1, 209

n.3, 212 n.83

See also South Africa; Southern

Africa

African Horse Sickness, 21, 25, 123,

126, 129, 130, 210 n.54

African Turf Club, 135, 136, 137

Agam breed, 37

Agra, 43

agriculture

ladang, 61, 62

use of horses in, 1, 13, 14, 22, 36,

57, 123, 125, 133, 207 n.12

Ajoebar, 61

Akbar, 43

Alaungpaya, King, 70

Algeria, 28

Amangkurat II, Susuhunan, 74, 77

ambling horses, 131, 132–133

Ambon, 40

Americas, 120

dissemination of equine genes and

phenotypes from, 13, 14, 23, 123,

154

extinction of horses in, 155 n.3

Spanish conquest of, 1, 9

Spanish reintroduction of horses

to, 32, 94, 131, 155 n.3

transfer of species between Europe

and, 9

See also South America; United

States

Andalusian horses, 85, 108

Anderson, John, 36

Anderson, Kay, 5

Anderson, Warwick, 121

Anglo–Boer War, 26, 93, 144

Angola, 26

animal rights movement, 4, 157–158

n.21

animal studies, 2–5, 156, n.9

animals

anthropogenic use of, 3

as ‘other’, 6–10, 153, 161 n.53

centrality to human lives, 3

consciousness (self–awareness) of,

6–7, 159 n.39, 160 n.47

environmental effects of, 9

in history, 2–5, 218 n.3

in non-Western settings, 8–9,

161–162 n.56

intelligence of, 7, 159 n.39

psychology of, 7

Index



anthrax, 62, 63, 97

anthropomorphism, 6, 7, 134

Arab horses, 24, 31, 34, 39, 44, 47, 59,

65, 70, 127, 135

bred with Basutho Pony, 145, 147,

148

influence on Cape Horse, 14, 131,

132

influence on Javanese horse, 66,

67

Philippines, 85, 108, 109, 113, 115,

116, 119

Arab traders, 29, 30–31, 52, 58, 59,

127, 187 n.14

Arabia, 34, 39

Argentina, 28

aristocracy, 127–128

Priangan, 39–40

See also elite

Arnold, David, 111

Asahan, 36

Asia, 2, 9

Central, 1



154

East, 23–24, 29

Inner, 22, 23, 24, 29

West, 1

See also Southeast Asia; Southwest

Asia; and specific Asian countries

Australasia, 1, 120

Australia

breeding in, 23

colonial hegemonic identity, 5

export of equids, 21, 23, 24, 25,

26, 27, 29, 31, 32, 44, 59, 108, 115

imports of horses, 23, 120, 149

stud stock from, 108, 115

Ayutthaya, court of

Javanese horses for 65, 71, 72–81

significance of horses to, 68–71

ties with Javanese court, 78

titles of people sent to buy horses,

75–76, 189 n.52

VOC loans to buy horses, 70, 73,

75, 76, 77, 78, 80, 81, 185

Bahrain, 27

Baker, Steve, 4

Bakewell, Robert, 11–12

Bali, 30, 43, 44, 45, 58, 65

Bandung, 44

Bangka, 72

Bangkok, 71

Bankoff, Greg, 1–18, 85–103, 105–121,

153–154

Banten, 38–39, 43, 72, 74

Barbosa, Duarte, 54

Barbs, 127, 131, 135

Barnard, Lady Anne, 132, 136

BaSotho people, 141, 143, 144, 150

Basotho Pony, 141, 142, 144–145

inventing, 145–149

Basotho Pony Project, 216 n.25

Basutoland. See Lesotho

Batak highlands, 35, 45–46, 48, 172

n.17

Batak horses/ponies, 35, 36, 37,

172–173 nn.13, 18

Batavia, 57

hub of Asian inter-exchange of

horse genes, 33, 47

imports of horses, 59

post-road to eastern Java, 44

Siamese horse trading in, 44, 72,

73, 76, 78, 80

Sumbawan horses in, 57

See also Dutch United East Indies

Company (VOC)

Bataviase Ommelanden, 44

Batubara, 36, 172, n.13

Beaulieu, Augustin de, 35

Bengal, 79

Berger, John, 10

Besuki, Residency of, 42, 59, 66


Index 251

Bhamo, 29

Bicol region, 31, 93, 96, 99, 100

Bicol River, 95

Bima, 43, 44, 47, 52, 54, 55–57, 58,

59, 60, 64, 171 n.2

Bima horses, 34, 39, 41, 45, 53, 54,

55–56, 57, 58

Bird, William, 136–137

blacksmiths, 98

Blambangan, 40, 42, 43

Blok, Gisela, 8

Blom, Wijbrand, 79

‘Boerperd’, 132, 147, 148

Bogor (Buitenzorg), 30, 44

Bombay, 24

Bondowoso, 42

Bone, Kingdom of, 55

Bonthain, 58

Boomgard, Peter, 4, 9, 33–48

Borneo, 34, 57, 85

Borommakot, King 65, 71, 80

Bouman, M.A., 55

Bourbon (Réunion), 21, 27, 58

bovids, 22

Braud, Gabriel, 77

breed, definition of, 1, 10–11, 33,

146–147

breeding, 1, 2, 10–12

Aceh, 35, 37, 48

as incentive to settlement of

particular areas, 48

Batak highlands, 35, 37, 48

Cape, 129, 130, 131–132, 133, 137

cross-breeding, 2, 67, 72, 85, 105,

108, 114–115, 131

in-breeding, 112–113

Indonesia, eastern, 45–47

Java, 38–44

Lesotho, 144–145, 149, 216 n.25

line-breeding, 112–113

Minangkabau area, 37

out-breeding, 17, 112, 113, 120

Philippines, 85, 108–111, 112–116,

119, 120, 199–202

population density, impact of,

37–38, 40, 41, 45–46, 47, 48

reinteelt, 59–60, 115

royal courts, impact of, 13, 36, 37,

39, 40, 41, 42, 46, 47, 48, 54–56,

172 n.17

scientific, 13, 111–112, 120, 150

selective, 112

‘semi-wild’ method, 60

South Africa, 147–148, 149

Spain, 108

Sumatra, 35–38, 46, 47, 48

Sumbawa, 53, 53–54, 56, 59–60,

61, 63

VOC, impact of, 33–34, 40, 43–44,

47, 57, 79

See also pasture and breeding;

stud farms

breeds. See Arab horses; Andalusian

horses; Basotho Pony; Batak

horses/ponies; Bima horses; Cape

Horse; ‘Capers’; Gayo horses; Java

ponies; Kedu horses; Kuningan

horses; Minangkabau horses;

Mongolian horses; Persian horses;

Philippine Horse; Priangan horses,

39; Sembrani horses; Tambora

horses; thoroughbred horses;

Timor pony; Walers

Britain, 5, 108

imports of horses to India, 24–25,

31

British East Asia Company, 178 n.13

Buddha, 65, 186 n.1

buffaloes, 35, 36, 40, 57

Buffon, Georges, 111, 117

Buitenzorg (Bogor), 30, 44

Bulliet, Richard, 9

bullocks, 86

Burchell, William, 135, 137, 209 n.39

Burias, 91



Burma, 23, 26, 34, 35, 70

Bushman (Khoisan; San), 124, 125,

127, 128, 129, 142, 143, 206–207

n.6

Calcutta, 24

Cambodia, 70, 119

Campostela, 89

Cape, South Africa 21, 25, 26, 143

attacks on horses by indigenous

people, 128, 129, 139, 209–210

n.46

breeding, 129, 130, 131–132, 133,

137

established as refreshment station,

14, 124–126

European settlement, 123,

124–125, 127, 128, 139

export of horses, 24, 131–132, 133

feral horses, 124, 130

growth of horse trade, 129–131,

139

horse population, 130

introduction of horses, 14, 23,

124–125, 127–128, 139

racing in, 131–132, 134–138, 139

Cape Horse, 15, 124, 130, 131–134,

135, 139, 144, 147, 148. See also

Capers

Cape Verde Islands, 23

‘Capers’, 24, 25, 132. See also Cape

Horse

carabaos, 86, 92, 93, 97, 98, 101

carriages and carts, 29, 57, 60, 64,

86–87, 89, 90, 96, 191 n.7

Casey, H., 116

castration, 59, 115–116, 203 n.60

Catanduanes Islands, 116

Cebu, 89, 93, 99

Celebes (Sulawesi), 34, 47, 55, 57, 60

celebrity horses, 55, 134, 213 nn.86,

89

ceremonial use of horses, 13, 55, 71.

See also royal processions

Ceylon, 24, 34, 57, 79

Chao Phra Khwan, 70

China, 1, 12, 22, 78, 105

breeding of equids, 29

export of equids, 31, 52, 76, 85

imports of equids, 23–24, 29

China Sea, 32

Choisy, Abbé de, 69

Cianjur, 40

Cirebon, 38, 39, 43, 47, 48, 72, 78, 80

Clarence-Smith, William G., 21–32

class, and racing, 136–138, 139

Clutton-Brock, J., 11

colonisation. See imperialism

colour of horses, 45

Java, 78

Siam, 71, 75, 77

Sumbawa, 54

Couperus, G.W., 53

courts. See royal courts

Crawfurd, John, 53, 68, 178 n.13

Crosby, Alfred, 1, 2, 9, 120, 150, 161

n.54

Cullion Island, Palawan, 108

culture

influence of animals on, 2–3

See also nature–culture distinction;

popular culture

Daendels, Governor-General, 44

Dalen, Adriaan van, 57

Dampier, William, 35, 85, 102

dancing horses, 67, 77

dari, 54–55

Darwin, Charles, 7, 112

Davao, 89

Davenport Adams, W.H., 53

Dawkins, Marian, 7

De Jong Boers, Bernice, 51–64, 101

decoration of horses, 68, 118–119,

187 n.13, 204–205 n.76


Index 253

deer hunting, 36, 39, 57, 62

deforestation, 37, 41, 48, 101

Delhi, 24, 43

Deli, 29, 35, 36

‘Deli ponies’, 29

Descartes, René, 159, n.39

Deshima, 34

Dhiravat na Pombejra 65–81

Diamond, Jared, 11

dietary regime of horses, 12, 101–102,

109, 196 n.56, 209 n.41. See also

pasture

diplomatic networks, 1–2

Diponegoro, Prince, 56, 180–181 n.35

diseases of horses, 13, 21, 22, 25, 27,

32, 61–62, 63

Philippines, 92–95, 97–100, 194

n.32

diseases of humans, and tropics, 111,

116, 117–118, 120

distemper, 97, 129

Dobbin, Christine, 37

domestication, 1, 6, 11, 120, 154

Dompo, 45, 52

donkeys, 22, 23, 26, 27

draught horses, 17, 29, 57, 60, 86,

106, 113, 124–125, 127, 128,

131, 133, 135, 137, 139, 141. See

also pack horses; transport and

haulage, use of horses for

Duckitt, William, 133, 136

Duff Gordon, Lucie, Lady, 133,

135–136

Dutch United East Indies Company

(VOC), 13, 123

and Cape, 14, 23, 124, 125, 127,

128, 130, 132, 134, 139, 208 n.22

and Siamese horse-buying

expeditions 65, 71, 72–81

Batavias Uitgaand Briefboek, 71

Generale Missiven, 71

influence on breeding, 33–34, 40,

43–44, 47, 57, 79

Javano–Siamese diplomatic

alliance against, 74

Overgekomen Brieven en Papieren,

71

ships, 34, 72, 73–74, 75–76, 77, 79,

80, 134

trade with Java, 38–39, 40–41,

43–45

trade with Sumbawa, 46, 57, 127,

209 n.35

trade with Timor, 46

East India Company (English), 24, 74,

135

East Indies. See Netherlands East

Indies

Elder, Glen, 128

elephants, 9, 34, 35, 38, 42, 43, 65, 76

as gifts, 77, 79, 119

fights involving, 69

military use, 69, 70

processional use, 68, 71, 75

transport, use for, 29

elite, association of horses with,

39–40, 127–128, 136–138, 139,

209 n.42. See also aristocracy;

royal courts

Emel, Jody, 3, 4, 5, 128

empire. See imperialism

English horses. See thoroughbred

horses: English

environmental history, 2, 150

environmental impact of animals,

9–10

environmental impact of horses

Philippines, 100, 101–103

Sumbawa, 62–63

Ethiopia, 23, 27

Europe, 1, 2, 8–9



123, 154

transfer of species between

Americas and, 9



See also neo-Europe

Fatehpur Sikri, 43

feral horses

Cape, 124, 130

Philippines, 95, 101, 102–103

First World War, 26, 31, 32

food, horses as, 22, 57, 58, 97, 100,

194–195 n.40

France, 28, 74

Francis, Emanuel, 58, 182 n.54

Freijss, J.P., 56, 58

Fudge, Erica, 6, 154

gaited horses, 211 n.62

Gamron, 34

Gayo area, 48

Gayo horses, 172, n.13

geographies, animal, 2

gerobak, 59

Gervaise, Nicolas, 68

gifts, horses as, 33, 45, 63, 67, 70, 72,

74, 76–77, 78–79, 119, 141, 205

n.79

glanders, 62, 63, 97, 185 n.82

Goa, 55, 110

Goens, Rycklof van, 41

grasslands. See pasture

Gresik, 40, 43

greyhound breeding, 11

Groeneveld, W. 35, 40, 52

Guam, 31

Guillemard, F.H.H., 54

Gunung Api (Sangeang), 53, 54, 55,

56, 101

Hackneys, 130, 211 n.59, 212 n.81

Haggard, H. Rider, 133

‘hand’, measurement of horses, 107,

164 n.89, 198–199 n.13, 208 n.32

Haraway, Donna, 8

haulage. See transport and haulage,

use of horses for

Havelock, Sir Henry, 24

hegemony, culture of, 6, 127, 149

hemorrhagic septicaemia, 63

Hindus, 22

sacred cows, 159, n.34

historiography

and human–animal relationship, 8,

150

and women’s history, 8

imperial, 153–154

interactions between people,

animals and land, 154, 218 n.4

history of horses, 154, 206 n.3

Hodson, George, 24

holy horse, 55

Horn of Africa, 26, 27

horse carriages. See carriages/carts

horse guards. See royal horse guards

horse-racing. See racing

horse-riding. See riding

horse-stirrup, 153, 217 n.1

‘horse-whims’, 26

‘Hottentots’ (Khoikhoi), 126, 127, 143,

206–207 n.6

human–animal interactions, 2, 8, 154

and breeding, 12

Philippines, 86

purposes of studying, 4

threat of human practices to

animals, 3

See also pet-keeping relations

hunting, use of horses in, 22, 36, 39,

40, 41, 42, 57, 62, 63, 89

Hurtado de Corcuera, Sebastian, 119

hybridity, 148

identity construction

animals in, 2, 4–5, 128

Cape, horses in, 123–124, 130–131

colonial culture, horses in, 131

indigenous identity, animals as

signifiers, 217 n.39

Lesotho, ponies in, 144, 149, 150


Index 255

Peruvian Paso in, 131

Southern Africa, horses integral to,

14

Spanish, and the Philippine Horse,

116–119, 121

Ilhas de Cavalhos, 34

Ilocos region, 31, 93, 96, 99, 100

imperialism 1–2

and alteration of European

societies, 153

and dissemination of genes and

phenotypes, 13, 14, 23, 123, 154

and indigenous people, 121,

153–154

horses as agents of, 1–2, 149–150

relationship between environment,

science and, 120

India, 1, 14, 21, 23, 34, 67, 74, 132

breeding of equids, 24, 29, 70

export of horses, 52, 76, 93, 108,

109, 110, 113, 119

imports of equids, 23, 24–25, 26,

27, 29, 31

Southeastern, 13

stud stock from, 108, 109, 110,

113, 119

See also specific cities

‘Indian Mutiny’, 24

Indian Ocean, maritime horse trade,

13, 15, 21–32, 149

indigenous people, 2, 118

attacks on horses, 128, 129, 139,

209–210 n.46

Cape, 14, 123–124, 125, 126, 127,

128, 129, 133, 139

Java, 38

Philippines, 98, 107, 114, 115–116,

117, 119, 121, 205 n.78

South Africa, 23

See also BaSotho people; Indios;

Khoikhoi; Khoisan; Mestizos; Sotho

Indios, 114, 119, 205 n.78

Indonesia, 13, 33–48

Eastern, 45–47

export of equids, 21, 23, 26, 28,

29, 47–48

imports of equids, 31, 47–48

movement of horses by sea, 22

shifts in horse producing areas, 48

See also Java; Sumatra; Sumbawa

Industrial Revolution, 8, 112

internal combustion engine, and need

for horses, 22, 32, 48, 60, 63

introduced species, 9–10

‘invention’ of the horse, 10–15,

111–116, 145–149

Irrawaddy River, 29

irruptive oscillation, 10

Islam, 9, 57, 177, n.5

Jaffna, 34, 44, 79

Jahangir, 43

Jambi, Sultan of, 72

Japan, 24, 29, 34, 85, 105

Jara La Manggila, 55, 179–180 n.27

Jasper, J.E., 55

Java, 13, 14, 22, 23, 30, 31, 34, 57, 93

breeding in, 38–44, 46, 47–48

cattle line between Lesser Sunda

Islands and, 59

Central, 42, 43, 56

Eastern, 42–43, 44, 72, 78, 80

export of horses, 44–45, 65–81,

127, 130

horse/people ratio, 43–44, 48

imports of horses, 38–39, 42–43,

44, 45, 46, 52, 54, 57, 58, 59

literature on horses, 34

Western, 39

women dancers wanted by Siamese

court, 77–78

See also specific placenames

‘Java ponies’, 29, 66, 130, 131

Java War, 37, 66, 180–181 n.35

‘Javanese horse’ (in VOC writings), 65

Jember, 59



Jene Jara, 55

Jepara, 38, 44, 78

Jortan, 43

jousting tournaments, 36–37, 41, 43,

69

Jovantes, Felipe, 98

Kabikolan, 94

Kaempfer, Engelbert, 69

Kalinjamat, 78

Kandy, 34

Kangga, 56

Kapitang, 55

Kartasura, 44, 78, 79

Kedu area, 41, 42, 45–46, 47, 48

Kedu horses, 30, 39, 41, 42, 44, 47

Keeling, William, 187 n.13

Kennedy, John, 160, n.47

Kenya, 28

Khoikhoi (‘Hottentots’), 126, 127, 143,

206–207 n.6

Khoisan (Bushman; San), 124, 125,

127, 128, 129, 142, 143, 206–207

n.6

King, Dick, 134, 213 n.87

Knight, John, 9

Kolbe, Peter, 126

kommando, 128, 139, 210 n.49

Koninklijke Paketvaart Maatschappij,

30, 59

Korea, 23

Kosathibodi (Pan), Chaophraya, 75

Kuda Sembrani, 38

Kulis, 59

Kuningan horses, 38, 39, 42, 44

Kuningan upland valley, 39, 45–46

Khunluang Wat Pradusongtham, 70

Kuperus, Gerrit, 57, 181 n.43

La Loubère, Simon de, 68, 69, 72, 73

Laambu, 56

Laguna, 87

Lamarck, Jean Baptiste, 111, 112

Landry, Donna, 12

Laos, 68

Lategan, A.W., 147

Law, Robin, 9

Le Roux, C.C.F.M., 52–53

Leach, Edmund, 159 n.35

leisure pursuits involving horses, 22,

149. See also hunting; polo, racing;

riding

Leopold, Aldo, 218 n.4

Lepanto, 89

Lesotho, 141–150, 215 n.1

breeding, 144–145, 149, 216 n.25

export of horses, 144

imports of horses, 143–144

horse as symbol of masculine

identity, 142, 150, 215 n.4

Lesser Sunda Islands, 28, 30–31, 34,

45, 46, 47, 48, 59, 62, 176

Lévi-Strauss, Claude, 2, 5

Leyte and Samar, 93, 99, 100

Lichtenstein, Heinrich, 132

Licios, Mt, 89

Ligtvoet, Albertus, 56, 181 n.39

Locke, John, 12

Lombok, 30, 43, 45, 58, 59, 65

Lucknow, 24

Lush, J., The Genetics of Populations,

11

Luzon, 85, 86, 93, 94, 95, 96, 99, 101,

102, 114

Macartney, Lord, 136

Macau, 29

Madagascar, 26, 27

Madras, 24, 131

Madura, 42, 43, 62

Majapahit, 52

Makassar, 34, 39, 44, 45, 46–47

Malakka, 58, 85

Malang, 42

Malaya, 22, 29, 31, 34

Mandailing horse, 172–173 n.18


Index 257

Mandela, Nelson, 141, 215 n.2

manes, cutting of, 70

Mangkubumi, Sultan, 69

Manila, 31–32, 76, 86, 89–91, 92,

96–97, 99, 100, 110, 118

Manila Jockey Club, 91, 92

Manipuri horsemen, 70

manure, horse, 41

Marche, Alfred, 97

‘Marengo’, Napoleon’s horse, 134, 213

n.89

mares, 212 n.83

Cape, 133–134

Indonesia, 59, 60, 91

Java, 73, 79

Philippines, 17, 91, 108, 109, 110,

112, 113, 115, 120, 200–201 n.33

Marsden, William, 36

Martaban, 70

Mascarene Islands, 21, 23. See also

Mauritius

plantation markets in, 26–28

masculine identity, 5, 142, 150, 215

n.4

Massawa, 28

Mataram, 40, 41, 43, 44, 74, 77, 78, 79

Maulud, 55

Mauritius, 21, 24, 27, 58, 93, 130

Meerhoff, Pieter, 126

Melville, Elinor, 9

Mestizos, 31, 119, 205 n.78

Mexico, 9, 85, 119, 155, n.3

military use of equids, 2, 22, 149

Anglo–Boer War, 26

Cape, 14, 123, 129, 139

First World War, 26, 31, 32

Hispanic society, 86

horses as heroes, 56, 134

horses as symbols of supremacy,

119

India, 24, 25, 187 n.21

Java, 30, 31, 40–41, 56

Lesotho, 143–144

Philippines, 109, 110, 119, 205

n.80

Siam, 68, 69, 70, 75

Southeast Asia, 13, 65

Southern Africa, 14, 25, 26, 128,

134

Sumatra, 36

Sumbawa, 57, 63

VOC, 40–41

Minangkabau highlands, 37, 45

Minangkabau horse, 37, 38, 40,

172–173 n.18

Mindanao, 13, 85, 89, 93, 99, 101

Mindoro, 31, 93, 94, 96, 99, 101

mining, use of equids in, 26

Mokka, 34

Moluccas, 34, 40, 45

Mongolian horses, 14, 35, 127

‘Moors’, 42, 68, 187 n.14. See also

Arab traders; Muslims

Moshoeshoe II, King, 141, 143–144,

215 n.2, 216 n.9

motorised transport, and need for

horses, 22, 32, 48, 60, 63

Moyo, 56

Mozambique, 26

Mughal horse guards, 68, 72

Muh�ammad Rabi ibn Muh�ammad

Ibrahim, 69–70

mules, 22, 23, 24, 26, 27, 32, 89, 109,

114, 130, 203 n.57, 214 n.104

Mundy, Peter, 35

Muslims, 29, 42, 55, 76

mustangs, 85, 211 n.60

naga, 65, 186 n.1

Nagana, 21, 26, 27

Nagarakertagama, 43

Narai, King 65, 68, 72–74

Naresuan, King, 70

Natal, 25

nature, belief in human right to

dominion over, 111–112, 113, 120



nature–culture distinction, 3, 4, 5, 8,

12, 139

neo-Europes, 10, 120, 161, n.54

Netherlands, 14, 29, 40

Netherlands East Indies,14, 28, 59, 62,

93, 101, 115, 124

Neveling, C.H., 147

New South Wales, 23

New Zealand, 23

Ngali, 56

Nile valley, 26

Nooitgedacht Horse Breeders’ Society,

148

Nooitgedacht pony, 147–148

Northern Territory, 31

nutritional needs of horses, 12,

101–102, 109, 196 n.56, 209 n.41.

See also pasture

Okluang Chula, 73

Olivier, Johannes, 53

Oman, 27

Orange Free State, 147

‘other’

animals as, 6–10, 161 n.53

horses as, 153

oxen, 22, 26, 29, 124, 133, 1399, 207

n.

pack horses, 60, 66, 86, 87, 90, 106,

192 n.15. See also draught horses;

transportation and haulage, use of

horses for

Padang, 37

Paie, 56

Pajajaran, 38

Palatine Law of Siam, 69

Palembang. See Sumatra

Pampanga, 91, 92, 93, 94, 96, 99, 110

Pariaman, 35, 37

Pasay Country Club, 92

pasture, 12, 209 n.41

Indonesia, 35, 36, 37–38, 40, 42,

45, 47, 48, 61, 62, 63

Philippines, 100, 102, 117

South Africa, 24, 25

See also nutritional needs of

horses

Pasuruan, Residency of, 42, 59

Payakumbuh horse, 37

pedigree, 2, 11, 12, 13

Pegu, 29, 35

‘Pegu Ponies’, 29

Pekat, 52, 53

Penang, 29

periodisation, 8

Persia, 23, 34, 39, 69–70, 130

Persian Gulf, 23, 24, 27, 31

Persian horses, 34, 35, 36, 38, 40, 44,

47, 65, 71

and Cape Horse, 129, 131, 132

gifts to Siamese rulers, 72, 76–77,

78–79

influence on Javanese horses, 67

Peruvian Paso, 131

pet-keeping relations, 157, n.17

Phetracha, King 65, 70, 72, 74–78, 79

Philippine–American War, 95, 194

n.32

Philippine Horse (breed), 85, 100–101,

103, 105, 191 n.1, 197 n.2

and Spanish identity construction,

116–119, 121

size, 105–107, 108, 111, 113,

114, 117, 119, 120, 121, 198–199

nn.13–16

transformed by environment, 114,

117, 120

Philippine Racing Club, 193 n.23

Philippines

breeding, 108–111, 112–116, 119,

120, 199–202

climate, 114, 117–118, 204 n.75

colonial legacy, 100–103

deaths of horses, 95–100


Index 259

dietary regime of horses, 101–102,

109, 196 n.56

environmental impact of horses

100, 101–103

export of equids, 21, 29, 76

feral horses, 95, 101, 102–103

floods, 95

health of horses, 92–95, 195 n.47

horse/people ratio, 101

horse population, 91, 93, 95, 96,

100–101, 102, 195–196 nn.52, 54

horses in colonial life, 86–92

Manila as mart for sea-borne

horses, 31–32

racing in, 91–92, 100, 193 n.23

Spanish introduction of horses, 13,

85, 105

Philo, Chris, 2, 5

Phra Phutthabat shrine, 71

pigs, guilt connected to use of, 159

n.35

Pires, Tomé, 35, 37, 38, 42, 43, 54, 65

Plate, River, 23

Poja, 56

polo, 32, 69

polygenism, 117, 204 n.68

ponies, 14–15, 21, 28, 29, 31, 32, 68,

69

definition of, 163 n.84

See also Java ponies; ‘South East

Asia Ponies’

popular culture, animals in, 2

population density, impact on

breeding, 37–38, 40, 41, 45–46, 47,

48

Portugal, 29, 34

postal service, use of horses in, 44

post-modern movement, 4, 159–160

n.41

power, horses as symbol of, 127, 128,

129, 139, 209, nn.37, 209

Prasatthong, King, 69, 72

Priangan horses, 39–40, 42, 43, 44, 47

Priangan upland valley, 39, 43, 45–46,

47, 48, 66

processions. See royal processions

quaggas, 126, 208 n.28

quarantine, 99

Queensland, 32

Quiapo, 90, 91

Raba, 61

‘race’, concept of, 147, 217 n.30

racehorses, 11, 24, 28, 32, 162 n.71

racing, 22, 69, 86, 162, n.71

and public personae of horses, 134

Cape, 131–132, 134–138, 139

Lesotho, 144

Philippines, 91–92, 100, 193 n.23

Southern Africa, 14, 15

Raffles, Thomas Stamford, 45, 178

n.13

railway, horse-drawn, 89

Rangoon, 29

Reenen, Daniel van, 132

Reinwardt, Caspar, 58, 182 n.53

Reniers, Carel, 72

Réunion (Bourbon), 21, 27, 58

Rhodesias, 26

riding, 22, 38, 43, 54, 57, 70–71, 118,

125, 132–133. See also saddle

horses

Riebeeck, Jan van, 124–125, 127, 129,

131, 206 n.4, 208 n.22

Riouw, 58

Ritvo, Harriet, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 11

Romanes, George, 7

Rose, Cowper, 136

Roti, 44, 45

royal courts

Java, 38–39, 41, 42, 43, 78

link between breeding and, 13, 36,

37, 39, 40, 41, 42, 46, 47, 48, 56,

172, n.17

Minangkabau dynasty, 37



Moghul, 43

Sumatra, 36–37, 172, n.17

Sumbawa, 54–56, 63

See also Ayutthaya, court of

royal horse guards, 68, 72

royal processions, 13, 68, 71

rulers, gifts of horses to, 33, 34

ruwe, 56

Ryukyu Islands, 23

saddle horses, 87, 89, 90, 96,

106–107, 113, 119, 192 n.15. See

also riding

Said, Edward, 6

Saie, 56

Saint-Hilaire, Isidore Geoffroy, 111

San (Bushman; Khoisan), 124, 125,

127, 128, 129, 142, 143, 206–207

n.6

San Pascual, 91

Sanchez Mira, José, 106, 108,

110–111, 119, 199 n.22

sandalwood horses, 46, 60

Sandalwood Island. See Sumba

Sangeang (Gunung Api), 53, 54, 55,

56, 101

Sanggar, 52, 58

Savu, 44, 45, 60

Schouten, Joost, 68, 71

Semarang, 44, 59, 78, 80

Sembrani horses, 38

Sendoro, 41

Sewell, Anna, Black Beauty, 134

Seychelles, 27

Shepard, Paul, 4

ships, 15, 22, 24, 28, 45

Arab, 30

British, 30

cattle boats, 59

Chinese, 75, 78

Dutch, 29, 30

French, 28

Javanese, 77

monsoon winds and use of, 58

perahu, 59

sailing ships, 25, 31

Siamese, 72, 73–74, 75

Spanish, 31

steamers, 25, 30, 59, 110

VOC ships, 34, 72, 73–74, 75–76,

77, 79, 80, 134

Siam, 13, 34, 39, 44–45

significance of horses in, 68–71

See also Ayutthaya, court of;

Thailand

‘simian orientalism’, 8

Singapore, 29, 58, 110

Singapore Chronicle, 53

Sirih Puan, 55

size of horses

large horses valued, 30, 33–34, 39,

42

Philippines, 105–107, 108, 111,

113, 114, 117, 119, 120, 121,

198–199 nn.13–16

small, Arab, 24, 31

small, Southeast Asia, 13, 14, 33,

106, 120

social analysis, categories of, 8

social change, theories of, 8

Somerset, Lord Charles, 24, 136,

137–138

Songkhla, 69

Sotho, 23, 142, 143, 150, 210 n.52.

See also BaSotho people

South Africa, 9

breeding, 147–148, 149

committee to investigate

indigenous breeds, 147

export of equids, 21, 22, 23, 24–26,

28

export of horses overland to

African countries, 21, 26

horse culture, 128

‘mineral revolution’, and export

price of horses, 25, 28


Index 261

See also Cape, South Africa;

Southern Africa

South African Stud Book, 148

South African Turf Club, 137

South African War, Second, 26, 93,

144

South America, 28, 93, 131

South China Sea, 22, 74, 110, 149

‘South East Asia Ponies’, 14–15, 124,

127

South Sulawesi, 30

Southeast Asia

breeds of horses, 12–13

diseases, 21, 103

export of equids, 21–22, 29

impact of colonisation on horses,

13

internal markets in, 28–32

large horses valued, 30, 33–34, 39,

42

population of horses, 23

small size of horses, 13, 33, 106,

120

stud stock from, 132

trade contacts, 67

See also specific countries

Southern Africa, 1, 13

breeds of horses, 14–15

diseases, 21, 22, 25

European colonisation and

settlement 1, 123

export of equids, 21–22, 23, 24–26

horse as ‘personality’, 134

imports of equids, 14, 23

internal demand for horses, 26

population of equids, 23

South West, 26

See also Cape, South Africa;

Lesotho; South Africa

Southwest Asia, 52

Spain

administration of Philippines, 107,

108, 110, 113, 114, 115–121

breeding programmes, 108

connections with Macau, 29

conquest of Americas, 1, 9

defeat in Spanish–American War,

31, 32

introduction of horses to

Philippines, 13, 85, 105, 1113

reintroduction of horses in

Americas, 32, 94, 131, 155 n.3

Sparrman, Anders, 126

stables, 56, 59, 70, 79, 90

stallions, 34, 47, 150

Cape, 129, 133–134

castration 59, 115–116, 203 n.60

Java, 59, 73, 79

Philippines, 17, 91, 107, 108, 109,

110, 112, 113, 115, 116, 120,

200–201 n.33

Sumbawa, 54, 56, 59

steam power, reduces need for

horses, 48

Stel, Simon van der, 129

stud farms

Bima, 56

Cape, 133

Lesotho, 144, 145, 216 n.25

Melck stud, 213 n.92

off Ceylon coast, 34, 47, 57, 79,

171 n.1

Philippines, 85, 109

South Africa, 147–148

Sua, King, 70, 78

Sudan, 28

Suez Canal, 25

Sulawesi (Celebes), 34, 47, 55, 57, 60

Sulu Horse, 197 n.2

Sulu Islands, 13, 85, 91

Sumatra, 34, 52

breeding, 35–38, 46, 47, 48

breeds of horses, 66, 172 n.13

eating of horse-flesh, 194–195 n.40


65, 85



imports of horses, 39, 72

stud stock from, 34

See also specific placenames

‘Sumatran horse’, 65, 172–173 n.18

Sumba, 30, 31, 44, 45, 46, 60, 66, 67

Sumbawa, 46, 51–64, 171 n.2

breeding/breeds, 45, 46, 53–54,

56, 59–60, 60, 61, 106, 183 n.64

colours of horses, 54

exchange of horses for gifts and

weapons, 57, 63, 205 n.79


45, 57, 58–59, 60, 63, 64, 127, 209

n.35

horse–keeping methods and

environment, 60–63, 101

horse/people ratio, 62

imports of horses, 65

introduction of horses, 52–54

royal horses at courts of, 54–56

seasonality of horse trade 58

topographical names, 176–177

value of horses in, 56–60, 63, 64

veterinary service, 59, 185 n.82

Western, 53, 54, 56, 177 n.5

Sumbawa Besar, 59, 60, 64

Sumbing, 41

Sumedang, 39

Sunda, 38

Surabaya, 42, 43, 44, 57

Surakarta, 41

surra (trypanosomiasis), 21, 27, 32,

62, 63, 92–95, 98, 123

Swart, Sandra, 1–18, 123–139,

141–150, 153–154

Tachard, Guy, 74

Tagalog region, Northern, 93, 94, 96,

99

Tagalog region, Southern, 87, 93, 94,

96, 99

tails, cutting of, 70, 136, 138

Taiwan, 34

Taliwang, 59

Tambora (sultanate), 45, 52, 53, 58

Tambora horses, 45, 53–54

Tambora, Mount, eruption of, 30,

53–54, 58

Tamil traders, 29

Tant, Gideon, 76

Tegal, 44

Thailand. See Siam

Thaisa, King 65, 78–80

theft of horses, 96–97, 129, 143

Thirsk, Joan, 12

Thompson, George, 132

Thorn, William, 53

Thorndike, Edward Lee, 7

Thornton, R.W., 145

thoroughbred horses, 11–12, 144,

145, 162–163 n.74

English, 12, 15, 108, 131, 132, 133,

134–135, 137, 138, 139, 213 n.90

Thunberg, Charles, 133

Tibet, 29, 32

Timor, 29, 30, 44, 45, 46, 60, 66

Timor pony, 66–67

tobacco cultivation, 41

Tou Juran, 56

Tou Kamutar, 56

tournaments. See jousting

tournaments

trade in horses

maritime, Indian Ocean, 21–32,

149

seasonality of, 58

strategic nature of, 22–24

See also Arab traders; Dutch

United East Indies Company; and

specific countries and regions

trade networks, 1–2, 13

tramcars, horse–drawn, 90

tramway, mule–drawn, 89

transport and haulage, use of equids

for, 26, 32, 149


Index 263

transport and haulage, use of horses

for, 22, 32, 48, 149

Cape, 124, 129

Indonesia, 37, 40

Java, 29, 66

Lesotho, 141

Philippines, 86–91, 110, 192 n.15

South Africa, 26

Sumbawa, 56–57, 60, 63, 64

Tripitaka 65

triple (trippel, tripple) 131, 132, 133,

211 nn.62, 73, 76

tropicality, 111, 121

tropics, European beliefs about,

116–118, 120–121

trotting, 131, 132, 133, 211 n.62, 212

n.72

Trunajaya War, 40–41

trypanosomiasis (surra), 21, 27, 32,

62, 63, 92–95, 98, 123

tsetse fly, 21

Tuban, 42, 43

Tuharlanti, 55

U’a Pua, 55

ungulate irruption, 9–10

United States, 5, 9, 26, 32, 107

administration of Philippines, 90,

94, 98–100, 102, 107, 114, 116

export of equids, 26, 32

Uruguay, 28

valuation of horses, 70–71

Van Braam Morris, D.F., 55, 56

Van Sittert, L. 9

Vanrenen family, 26

Vereenigde Oost–Indisch Compagnie

(VOC). See Dutch East India

Company

veterinary services

Philippines, 98–100, 109, 195 n.47

Sumbawa, 59, 185 n.82

Vietnam, 34

Visayas, 93, 94, 99, 101

Vliet, Jeremias van, 68, 69, 71

Walers, 23, 28, 29, 31, 32

warfare. See military use of equids

Wera, 56

Western Australia, 28, 31

Wilkes, Charles, 91

Willis, Roy, 4

Witjens, J.C. 52

Wolch, Jennifer, 3, 4, 128

Wolf, Eric, 153

Woltemade, Wolraad, 134, 213 n.85

women

devaluation of, 8, 160 n.50

history of, and revision of

historiography, 8

Lesotho, 215 n.4

World War I, 26, 31, 32

Yogyakarta, 41

Young, Sir George, 136

Yunnan, 12, 29, 32

zebras, 26, 123, 126, 208 nn. 30–31

Zollinger, Heinrich, 54, 55, 58, 179

n.19

zoos, 5, 9

zootechny, 111, 112, 113, 119, 120,

121

Zulu, 143
